PHIL,  THE  FIDDLER. 


PHIL  THE  FIDDLER; 


OR, 


THE  STORY  OF  A  YOUNG  STREET  MUSICIAN. 


BY 


HORATIO  ALGER,  JR., 

AUTHOR  OF  THE   "  RAGGED   DICK   SERIES,"    "TATTERED  TOM  SERIES," 
"  CAMPAIGN  SERIES,"   "  LUCK   AND    PLUCK  SERIES,"    ETC. 


ILLUSTRATED  BY  LAURA    CAXTON. 


PHILADELPHIA 
HENRY  T.  COATES  &  CO. 


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,     ,  Cloth.  <t 


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Other  Volumes  in  Preparation. 

COPYRIGHT  BY  A.  K.  LORING,  1872.  \^- 


TO 


in1  IR,  .A.  nsr  IK:   .A-LG 

THIS    VOLUME 


JS  DEDICA  TED 


AFFECTIONATE    BROTHER. 


A* 


M  A  / 


PREFACE. 


AMONG  the  most  interesting  and  picturesque  classes  of 
street  children  in  New  York  are  the  young  Italian  musicians, 
who  wander  about  our  streets  with  harps,  violins,  or  tambou 
rines,  playing  wherever  they  can  secure  an  audience.  They 
become  Americanized  less  easily  than  children  of  other  na 
tionalities,  and  both  in  dress  and  outward  appearance  retain 
their  foreign  look,  while  few,  even  after  several  years'  resi 
dence,  acquire  even  a  passable  knowledge  of  the  English 
language. 

In  undertaking,  therefore,  to  describe  this  phase  of  street- 
life,  I  found,  at  the  outset,  unusual  difficulty  on  account  of 
my  inadequate  information.  But  I  was  fortunate  enough  to 
make  the  acquaintance  of  two  prominent  Italian  gentlemen, 
long  resident  in  New  York,  —  Mr.  A.  E.  Cerqua,  superintend 
ent  of  the  Italian  School  at  the  Five  Points,  and,  through  his 
introduction,  of  Mr.  G.  F.  Secchi  de  Casale,  editor  of  the 
well-known  "  Eco  d'  Italia,"  from  whom  I  obtained  full  and 
trustworthy  information.  A  series  of  articles  contributed  by 
Mr.  De  Casale  to  his  paper,  on  the  Italian  street  children,  in 


Vm  PREFACE. 

whom  he  has  long  felt  a  patriotic  and  sympathetic  interest,  I 
have  found  of  great  service,  and  I  freely  acknowledge  that, 
but  for  the  information  thus  acquired,  I  should  have  been 
unable  to  write  the  present  volume. 

My  readers  will  learn,  with  surprise,  probably,  of  the  hard 
life  led  by  these  children,  and  the  inhuman  treatment  which 
they  receive  from  the  speculators  who  buy  them  from  their 
parents  in  Italy.  It  is  not  without  reason  that  Mr.  De  Casale 
speaks  of  them  as  the  "  White  Slaves  "  of  New  York.  I  may 
add,  in  passing,  that  they  are  quite  distinct  from  the  Italian 
boot-blacks  and  newsboys  who  are  to  be  found  in  Chatham 
Street  and  the  vicinity  of  the  City  Hall  Park.  These  last  are 
the  children  of  resident  Italians  of  the  poorer  class,  and  are 
much  better  off  than  the  musicians.  It  is  from  their  ranks 
that  the  Italian  school,  before  referred  to,  draws  its  pupils. 

If  the  story  of  "  Phil,  the  Eiddler,"  in  revealing  for  the  first 
time  to  the  American  public  the  hardships  and  ill-treatment 
of  these  wandering  musicians,  shall  excite  an  active  sympathy 
in  their  behalf,  the  author  will  feel  abundantly  repaid  for  hii 
labors. 

NEW  YORK,  April  2, 18T4     ' 


PHIL,  THE  FIDDLER; 

OR, 

THE  YOUNG  STREET  MUSICIAN. 

CHAPTER    I. 

PHIL,    TUE    FIDDLER. 

*  Viva  Garibaldi  I "  sang  a  young  Italian  boy  in 
an  uptown  street,  accompanying  himself  on  a  violin, 
which,  from  its  battered  appearance,  seemed  to  have 
met  with  hard  usage. 

As  the  young  singer  is  to  be  the  hero  of  my  story, 
I  will  pause  to  describe  him.  lie  was  twelve  years 
old,  but  small  of  his  age.  His  complexion  was  a 
brilliant  olive,  with  the  dark  eyes  peculiar  to  his  race, 
and  his  hair  black.  In  spite  of  the  dirt,  his  face  was 
strikingly  handsome,  especially  when  lighted  up  by  a 
smile,  as  was  often  the  case,  for  in  spite  of  the  hard 
ships  of  his  lot,  and  these  were  neither  few  noi 

light,  Filippo  was  naturally  merry  and  light-hearted 

9 


10  P/ZTL,  >rnE  FIDDLER;  o/?, 

He  wore  a  velveteen  jacket,  and  pantaloons  which 
atoned,  by  thoir  extra  length,  for  the  boles  resulting 
from  hard  usage  and  antiquity.  Ilia  shoes,  which 
appeared  to  be  wholly  unacquainted  with  blacking, 
were  like  his  pantaloons,  two  or  three  sizes  too  large 
for  him,  making  it  necessary  for  him  to  shuffle  along 
ungraceful^. 

It  was  now  ten  o'clock  in  the  morning.  Two  hours 
had  elapsed  since  Filippo,  or  Phil,  as  I  shall  call  him, 
for  the  beneflt  of  my  readers  unfamiliar  with  Italian 
names,  had  left  the  miserable  home  in  Crosby  Street 
where  he  and  forty  other  boys  lived  in  charge  of  a 
middle-aged  Italian,  known  as  the  padrone.  Of  this 
person,  and  the  relations  between  him  and  the  boys, 
I  shall  hereafter  speak.  At  present  I  propose  to 
accompany  Phil. 

Though  he  had  wandered  about,  singing  and  play 
ing,  for  two  hours,  Phil  had  not  yet  received  a  penny. 
This  made  him  somewhat  uneasy,  for  he  knew  that  at 
night  he  must  carry  home  a  satisfactory  sura  to  the 
padrone,  or  he  would  be  brutally  beaten ;  and  poor 
Phil  knew  from  sad  experience  that  his  hard  task 
master  had  no  mercy  in  such  cases. 


THE    YOUNG   STREET  MUS1CIAX.  11 

The  block  in  which  he  stood  was  adjacent  to  Fifth 
Avenue,  and  was  lined  on  either  side  with  brown-stone 
houses.  It  was  quiet,  and  but  few  passed  through  it 
during  the  busy  hours  of  the  day.  Cut  Phil's  hope 
uras,  that  some  money  might  be  thrown  him  from  a 
window  of  some  one  of  the  fine  houses  before  which 
he  was  playing.  But  he  seemed  likely  to  be  disap 
pointed,  for  he  played  ten  minutes  without  apparently 
attracting  any  attention.  He  was  about  to  change  his 
position,  when  the  basement  door  of  one  of  the  houses 
opened,  and  a  servant  came  out,  bareheaded,  and  ap 
proached  him.  Phil  regarded  her  with  distrust,  for  ho 
was  often  ordered  away  as  a  nuisance.  He  stopped 
playing,  and,  hugging  his  violin  closely,  regarded  her 
watchfully. 

"  You're  to  come  m,  *  said  the  girl  abruptly. 

"  CJie  cosa  volete  ?"*  said  Phil,  suspiciously. 

"  I  don't  understand  your  Italian  rubbish,"  said  the 
:'  girl.  "  You're  to  come  into  the  house." 

In  general,  boys  of  Phil's  class  are  slow  in  learning 
English.  After  months,  and  even  years  sometimes, 
their  knowledge  is  limited  to  a  few  words  or  phrases, 
*  What  do  you  want  ? 


12  pniL*  THE  FIDDLER;  os, 

On  the  other  hand,  they  pick  up  French  readily,  and 
as  many  of  them,  en  route  for  America,  spend  some 
weeks,  or  months,  in  the  French  metropolis,  it  is  com 
mon  to  find  them  able  to  speak  the  language  some 
what.  Phil,  however,  was  an  exception,  and  coukl 
manage  to  speak  English  a  little,  though  not  as  well 
as  he  could  understand  it. 

"  What  for  I  go  ?  "  he  asked,  a  little  distrustfully. 

"  My  }Toung  master  wants  to  hear  you  play  on  3'our 
fiddle,"  said  the  servant.  "  He's  sick,  and  can't 
come  out." 

"  All  right !  "  said  Phil,  using  one  of  the  first  Eng 
lish  phrases  he  had  caught.  "  I  will  go." 

"  Come  along,  then." 

Phil  followed  his  guide  into  the  basement,  thence 
up  two  flights  of  stairs,  and  along  a  handsome  hall 
into  a  chamber.  The  little  fiddler,  who  had  never 

before  been  invited  into  an  elegant  house,  looked  with 
vt"" 

admiration  at  the  handsome  furniture,  and  especially 

at  the  pictures  upon  the  wall,  for,  like  most  of  his 
nation,  he  had   a  love  of  whatever  was  beautiful, 
whether  in  nature  or  art. 
The  chamber  had  two  occupants,  one   a  boy  of 


THE    YOUNG    STREET  MUSICIAN.  13 

twelve  years,  was  lying  in  a  bed,  propped  up  by 
pillows.  His  thin,  pale  face,  spoke  of  long  sickness, 
and  contrasted  vividly  with  the  brilliant  brown  face 
of  the  little  Italian  bo}T,  who  seemed  the  perfect 
picture  of  health.  Sitting  beside  the  bed  was  a  lady 
of  middle-age,  and  pleasant  expression.  It  was  easy 
to  see  by  the  resemblance  that  she  was  the  mother  of 
the  sick  boy. 

Phil  looked  from  one  to  the  other,  uncertain  what 
was  required  of  him. 

"  Can  }TOU  speak  English  ?  "  asked   Mrs.  Leigh. 

"  Si,  signora,  a  little,"  answered  our  hero. 

"  My  son  is  sick,  and  would  like  to  hear  you  play  a 
little." 

"  And  sing  too,"  added  the  sick  boy,  from  the  bed. 

Phil  struck  up  the  song  he  had  been  singing  in  the 
street,  a  song  well  known  to  all  who  have  stopped  to 
listen  to  boys  of  his  class,  with  the  refrain,  Viva 
Garibaldi.  His  voice  was  clear  and  melodious,  and, 
in  gpite  of  the  poor  quality  of  his  instrument,  he  sang 
with  so  much  feeling  that  the  effect  was  agreeable. 

The  sick  boy  listened  with  evident  pleasure,  for  he, 
too,  had  a  taste  for  music. 


14  PHIL)  THE  FIDDLER;  o/j, 

"  I  wish  I  could  understand  Italian,"  he  said.  "  1 
think  it  must  be  a  good  song." 

"Perhaps  he  can  sing  some  English  song,"  sug 
gested  Mrs.  Leigh. 

"  Can  you  sing  in  English?"  she  asked. 

Phil  hesitated  a  moment,  and  then  broke  into  the 
common  street  ditty,  "  Shoo  fly,  don't  bodder  me," 
giving  a  quaint  sound  to  the  words  by  his  Italian 
accent. 

"Do  you  know  any  more?"  asked  Henry  Leigh, 
when  our  hero  had  finished. 

"  Not  English,"  said  Phil,  shaking  his  head. 

"  You  ought  to  learn  more." 

"  I  can  play  more,"  said  Phil,  "  but  I  know  not,  the 
words." 

"  Then  play  some  tunes." 

Thereupon  the  little  Italian  struck  up  "Yankee 
Doodle,"  which  he  played  with  spirit  and  evident 
enjoyment. 

"Do  you  know  the  name  of  that?"  asked  Henry 

Phil  shook  his  head. 

"  It  is  Yankee  Doodle." 


THE    YOUNG   STREET  MUSICIAN.  15 

Phil  tried  to  pronounce  it,  but  the  words  in  hia 
mouth  had  a  droll  sound,  and  made  them  laugh. 

" How  old  arc  you?  "  asked  Henry. 

"  Twelve  years." 

4  •  Then  you  are  quite  as  old  as  I  am." 

u  I  wish  you  were  as  well  and  strong  as  he  seems  to 
be,"  said  Mrs.  Leigh,  sighing,  as  she  looked  at  Henry's 
pale  face. 

That  was  little  likely  to  be.  Always  a  delicate 
child,  Henry  had  a  year  previous  contracted  a  cold, 
which  had  attacked  his  lungs,  and  had  gradually 
increased  until  there  seemed  little  doubt  that  in  the 
long  struggle  with  disease  nature  must  succumb,  ana 
an  early  death  ensue. 

" How  long  have  you  been  in  this  country?" 

"  Un  anno." 

"  How  long  is  that?" 

"  A  year,"  said  Henry.  "  I  know  that,  because 
annus  means  a  year  in  Latin." 

44  Si,  signore,  a  year,"  said  Phil. 

"  And  where  do  you  come  from?" 

44  Da  Napoli." 

44  That  means  from  Naples,  I  suppose." 


16  PIIIL,  THE  FIDDLER;  o/?, 

"  Si,  signore." 

Most  of  the  little  Italian  musicians  to  be  found  in 
our  streets  are  brought  from  Calabria,  the  southern 
portion  of  Italy,  where  they  are  purchased  from  their 
parents,  for  a  fixed  sum,  or  rate  of  annual  payment. 
But  it  is  usual  for  them,  when  questioned,  to  say  that 
they  come  from  Naples,  that  being  the  principal  city 
in  that  portion  of  Italy,  or  indeed  in  the  entire  king 
dom. 


"Who  do  you  live  with?"  continued  Henry. 
"With  the  padrone." 
"  And  who  is  the  padrone  ?  " 
"  He  take  care  of  me,  —  he  bring  me  from  Italy.** 
"Is  he  kind  to  you?" 
Phil  shrugged  his  shoulders. 
.  "  He  beat  me  sometimes,"  he  answered. 

" Beats  you?  What  for? " 
"  If  I  bring  little  money." 
"  Does  he  beat  you  hard  ?  * 
"  Si,  signore,  with  a  stick." 

"Ho  must  be  a  bad  man,"  said  Henry,  indignantly. 
"  How  much  money  must  you  carry  home?  " 
"  Two  dollar." 


THE    YOUNG   STREET  MUSICIAN.  17 

"  But  it  isn't  your  fault,  if  people  will  not  give  you 
money." 

"  Non  importa     He  beat  me." 

"  He  ought  to  be  beaten  himself." 

Phil  shrugged  his  shoulders.  Like  most  boys  of 
his  class,  to  him  the  padrone  seemed  all-powerful. 
The  idea  that  his  oppressive  task-master  could  bo 
punished  for  his  cruelty  had  never  dawned  upon  him. 
Knowing  nothing  of  any  law  that  could  protect  him, 
he  submitted  to  it  as  a  necessity,  from  which  there 
was  no  escape  except  by  running  away.  He  had  not 
come  to  that  yet,  but  some  of  his  companions  had 
done  so,  and  he  might  some  day. 

After  this  conversation  he  played  another  tune. 
Mrs.  Leigh  drew  out  her  purse,  and  gave  him  fifty 
cents.  Phil  took  his  fiddle  under  his  arm,  and,  follow 
ing  the  servant  who  reappeared,  emerged  into  the 
street,  and  moved  onward. 


18  PHIL*  THE  FIDDLEA; 


CHAPTER    II. 

PHIL    AND   HIS    PROTECTOR. 

To  a  certain  extent  Phil  was  his  own  master; 
that  is,  he  was  at  liberty  to  wander  where  he  liked, 
provided  he  did  not  neglect  his  business,  and  re 
turned  to  the  lodging-house  at  night  with  the  required 
sum  of  money.  But  woe  be  to  him  if  he  were  caught 
holding  back  any  of  the  money  for  his  own  use.  In 
that  case,  he  would  be  beaten,  and  sent  to  bed  with 
out  his  supper,  while  the  padrone,  according  to  the 
terms  of  his  contract  with  the  distant  parent,  would 
withhold  from  the  amount  due  the  latter  ten  times 
the  sum  kept  by  the  boy.  In  the  middle  of  the  day 
he  was  allowed  to  spend  three  cents  for  bread,  which 
was  the  only  dinner  allowed  him.  Of  course  the 
boys  were  tempted  to  regale  themselves  more  lux 
uriously,  but  they  incurred  a  great  risk  in  doing  so. 
Sometimes  the  padrone  followed  them  secretly,  or 
employed  others  to  do  so,  and  so  was  able  to  detect 


THE    YOUNG    STREET  ATUS1CLAN.  19 

them.  Besides,  they  travelled,  in  general,  by  twos 
and  threes,  and  the  system  of  espionage  was  en 
couraged  by  the  padrone.  So  mutual  distrust  wag 
inspired,  and  the  fear  of  being  reported  made  the 
boys  honest. 

Phil  left  the  house  of  Mr.  Leigh  in  good  spirits. 
Though  he  had  earned  nothing  before,  the  fifty  cents 
he  had  just  received  made  a  good  beginning,  and  in 
spired  in  him  the  hope  of  getting  together  enough  to 
save  him  a  beating. 

He  walked  down  towards  Sixth  Avenue,  and  turn 
ing  the  comer  walked  down  town.  At  length  he 
paused  in  front  of  a  tobacconist's  shop,  and  began 
to  play.  But  he  had  chosen  an  unfortunate  time  and 
place.  The  tobacconist  had  just  discovered  a  de 
ficiency  in  his  money  account,  which  he  suspected  to 
be  occasioned  by  the  dishonesty  of  his  assistant.  In 
addition  to  this  he  had  risen  with  a  headache,  so 
that  he  was  in  a  decidedly  bad  humor.  Music  had 
no  charms  for  him  at  that  moment,  and  he  no  sooner 
heard  the  first  strains  of  Phil's  violin  than  he  rushed 
from  the  shop  bareheaded,  and  dashed  impetuously  at 
the  young  field  lor. 


20  p/7/z,  THE  FIDDLER;  o/j, 

"Get  away  from  my  shop,  you  little  vagabond  \n 
he  cried.  "  If  I  had  my  way,  you  should  all  be  sent 
out  of  the  country." 

Phil  was  quick  to  take  a  hint.  He  saw  the  men- 
ance  in  the  shop-keeper's  eyes,  and,  stopping  abruptly, 
ran  further  down  the  street,  hugging  his  fiddle,  which 
he  was  afraid  the  angry  tobacconist  might  seize  and 
break.  This  to  him  would  be  an  irreparable  mis 
fortune,  and  subject  him  to  a  severe  punishment, 
though  the  fault  would  not  be  his. 

Next  he  strolled  into  a  side  street,  and  began  to 
play  in  front  of  some  dwelling-houses.  Two  or  three 
young  children  who  had  been  playing  in  the  street 
gathered  about  him,  and  one  of  them  gave  him  a 
penny.  Tlioy  were  clamorous  for  another  tune,  but 
Phil  could  not  afford  to  work  for  nothing,  and,  seeing 
no  pro3pect  of  additional  pay,  took  his  violin,  and 
walked  away,  much  to  the  regret  of  his  young  audi 
tors,  who,  though  not  rich,  were  appreciative.  They 
followed  him  to  the  end  of  the  block,  hoping  that  he 
would  play  again,  but  the}7"  were  disappointed. 

Phil  played  two  or  three  times  more,  managing 
to  obtain  in  all  twenty-five  cents  additional.  He 


THE    TOUNG   STREET  MUSICIAN.  21 

reached  the  corner  of  Thirteenth  Street  just  as  the 
large  public  school,  known  as  the  Thirteenth  Street 
School,  was  dismissed  for  its  noon  intermission. 

"Give  us  a  tune,  Johnny,"  cried  Edward  Eustis, 
one  of  the  oldest  boys. 

"  Yes,  a  tune,"  joined  in  several  others. 

This  was  an  invitation  to  which  Phil  was  always 
willing  to  respond.  Besides,  he  knew  from  ex 
perience  that  boys  were  more  generous,  in  proportion 
to  their  means,  than  those  of  larger  growth,  and  he 
hoped  to  get  enough  from  the  crowd  around  him  to 
increase  his  store  to  a  dollar. 

The  boys  gathered  around  the  little  minstrel,  who 
struck  up  an  Italian  tune,  but  without  the  words. 

"  Sing,  sing  !  "  cried  the  boys. 

Phil  began  to  sing.  His  clear,  fresh  voice  pro 
duced  a  favorable  impression  upon  the  boys. 

"  He's  a  bully  singer,"  said  one.  "  I  can't  sing 
much  better  myself." 

"  You  sing !  Your  singing  would  be  enough  to 
scare  a  dozen  tom-cats." 

"  Then  we  should  be  well  matched.  Look  here, 
Johnny,  can't  you  sing  something  in  English  ?  " 


22  pniL,  THE  FIDDLER;  OR, 

Phil,  in  response  to  this  request,  plaj-ed  and  sang 
"  Shoo  Fly !  "  which,  suiting  the  boys'  taste,  he  was 
called  upon  to  repeat. 

The  song  being  finished,  Edward  Eustis  took  off 
his  cap,  and  went  around  the  circle. 

"Now,  bojTs,  you  have  a  chance  to  show  your 
liberality,"  he  said.  "  I'll  start  the  collection  with 
five  cents." 

"  That's  ahead  of  me,"  said  James  Marcus. 
"  Justice  to  a  large  and  expensive  family  will  pre 
vent  my  contributing  more  than  two  cents." 

"  Smallest  favors  thankfully  received,"  said  Ed 
ward. 

"  Then  take  that,  and  be  thankful,"  said  Tom 
Lane,  dropping  in  a  penny. 

"  I  haven't  got  any  money,"  said  Frank  Gay  lord, 
*'  but  here's  an  apple ; "  and  he  dropped  a  large  red 
apple  into  the  cap. 

Phil,  watching  with  interest  the  various  contribu 
tions,  was  best  pleased  with  the  last.  The  money  he 
must  carry  to  the  padrone.  The  apple  he  might 
keep  for  himself,  and  it  would  vary  agreeably  his 
usual  meagre  fare. 


THE    YOUNG   STREET  MUSICIAN.  23 

uThe  biggest  contribution  yet,"  said  Edward. 
"Here,  Sprague,  you  are  liberal.  What'll  you 
give?" 

"  My  note  at  ninety  days." 

"  You  might  fail  before  it  comes  due." 

4  Then  take  three  cents.  Tis  all  I  have ;  1 1  can 
no  more,  though  poor  the  offering  be.' " 

"Oh,  don't  quote  Shakspeare." 

"  It  isn't  Shakspeare  ;  it's  Milton." 

"Oust  as  much  one  as  the  other." 

"  Here,  Johnny,"  said  Edward,  after  going  the 
rounds  "  hold  your  hands,  and  I'll  pour  out  the 
money.  You  can  retire  from  business  now  on  a 
fortune." 

Phil  was  accustomed  to  be  addressed  as  Johnny, 
that  being  the  generic  name  for  boy  in  New  York. 
He  deposited  the  money  in  his  pocket,  and,  taking 
his  fiddle,  played  once  more  in  acknowledgment  of 
the  donation.  The  boys  now  dispersed,  leaving  Phil 
to  go  on  his  way.  Ho  took  out  the  apple  with  the 
intention  of  eating  it,  when  a  rude  boy  snatched  it 
from  his  hand. 

"  Give  it  back,"  said  Phil,  angrily. 


24  P/TZZ,  IHR  FIDDLER;  OR, 

"  Don't  3-ou  wish  you  may  get  it?"  said  the  other, 
holding  it  out  of  his  reach. 

The  young  musician  had  little  chance  of  redress. 
His  antagonist  was  a  head  taller  than  himself,  and, 
besides,  he  would  not  have  dared  to  lay  down  hip 
fiddle  to  fight,  lest  it  might  get  broken. 

"  Give  it  to  me,"  he  said,  stamping  his  foot. 

"  I  mean  to  eat  it  myself,"  said  the  other,  coolly. 
,  "  It's  too  good  for  the  likes  of  you." 

"  You're  a  thief." 

"  Don't  you  call  me  names,  you  little  Italian  rag 
amuffin,  or  I'll  hit  you,"  said  the  other,  menacingly. 

"  It  is  my  apple." 

"  I'm  going  to  eat  it." 

But  the  speaker  was  mistaken.  As  he  held  the 
apple  above  his  head,  it  was  suddenly  snatched  from 
him.  lie  looked  round  angrily,  and  confronted 
Edward  Eustis,  who,  seeing  Phil's  trouble  from  a 
little  distance,  had  come  to  his  rescue. 

"What  did  you  do  that  for?"  demanded  the 
thief. 

"  What  did  you  take  the  boy's  apple  for? " 

"  Because  I  felt  like  it." 


THE    YOUNG   STREET  MUSICIAN.  25 

"  Then  I  took  it  from  you  for  the  same  reason." 

"  Do  you  want  to  fight  ? "  blustered  the  rowdy. 

44  Not  particularly." 

"  Then  hand  me  back  that  apple,"  returned  the 
other. 

44  Thank  you  ;  I  shall  only  hand  it  to  the  rightful 
owner, — that  little  Italian  boy.  Are  you  not 
ashamed  to  rob  him?" 

44  Do  you  want  to  get  hit?  " 

4;  I  wouldn't  advise  you  to  do  it." 

The  rowdy  looked  at  the  boy  who  confronted  him. 
Edward  was  slightly  smaller,  but  there  was  a  de 
termined  look  in  his  eye  which  the  bully,  who,  like 
those  of  his  class  generally,  was  a  coward  at  heart, 
did  not  like.  He  mental]}7  decided  that  it  would  be 
safer  not  to  provoke  him. 

4'  Come  here,  Johnny,  and  take  your  apple,"  said 
Edward. 

Phil  advanced,  and  received  back  his  property 
with  satisfaction. 

44  You'd  better  eat  it  now.  I'll  see  that  he  doesn't 
disturb  you." 

Phil  followed  the  advice  of  his  new  friend  promptly. 


26  PHIL,  THE  FIDVLER;  OR, 

He  bad  eaten  nothing  since  seven  o'clock,  and  then 
only  a  piece  of  dry  bread  and  cbeese,  and  tbe  apple, 
a  rare  luxury,  be  did  not  fuil  to  rclisb.  His  would- 
be  robber  scowled  at  him  meanwhile,  for  he  had 
promised  himself  the  pleasure  of  despatching  the 
fruit.  Edward  stood  by  till  the  apple  was  eaten,  and 
then  turned  away.  The  rowdy  made  a  movement 
as  if  to  follow  Phil,  but  Edward  quickly  detected  him, 
anl  came  back. 

"Don't  you  dare  to  touch  him,"  he  said  signifi 
cantly,  "  or  you'll  have  to  settle  accounts  with  me. 
Do  you  see  that  policeman?  I  am  going  to  ask  him 
to  have  an  eye  on  you.  You'd  better  look  out  for 
yourself." 

The  other  turned  at  the  caution,  and  seeing  the 
approach  of  one  of  the  Metropolitan  police  quickly 
vanished.  He  had  a  wholesome  fear  of  these 
guardians  of  the  public  peace,  and  did  not  care  to 
court  their  attention. 

Edward  turned  away,  but  in  a  moment  felt  a  hand 
tugging  at  his  coat.  Looking  round,  he  saw  that  it 
was  Phil. 

"Grazia,  signore,"  said  Phil,  gratefully. 


THE    YOUNG    STREET  MUSICIAN.  27 

"  I  suppose  that  means  '  Thank  you '  ?  " 
Phil  nodded. 

"  All  right,  Johnny !  I  am  glad  I  was  by  to  save 
you  from  that  bully." 


28  pniL)  THE  FIDDLER; 


CHAPTER    111. 

GIACOMO. 

AFTER  eating  the  apple  Phil  decided  to  buy  his 
frugal  dinner.  lie,  therefore,  went  into  a  baker's 
shop,  and  bought  two  penny  rolls  and  a  piece  of 
cheese.  It  was  not  a  very  luxurious  repast,  but  with 
the  apple  it  was  better  than  usual.  A  few  steps  from 
the  shop-door  he  met  another  Italian  boy,  who  WAS 
bound  to  the  same  padrone. 

"How  much  money  have  you,  Giacomo?"  asked 
Phil,  speaking  of  course  in  his  native  tongue. 

"  Forty  cents.     How  much  have  you  ?  " 

"  A  dollar  and  twenty  cents." 

*  You  are  very  lucky,  Filippo." 

"  A  rich  signora  gave  me  fifty  cents  for  playing  to 
her  sick  boy.  Then  I  sang  for  some  school  boys,  and 
they  gave  me  some  money." 

"  I  am  afraid  the  padrone  will  beat  me  to-night." 

"  He  has  not  beat  me  for  a  week." 


THE    YOUNG   STREET  MUSICIAN.  29 

"  Have  you  had  dinner,  Filippo?  " 

"  Yes,  I  had  some  bread  and  cheese,  and  an  apple." 

"  Did  you  buy  the  apple  ?  " 

"  No  ;  one  of  the  school-boys  gave  it  to  me.  It  wag 
very  good,"  said  Phil,  in  a  tone  of  enjoyment.  "I 
had  not  eaten  one  for  a  long  time." 

"  Nor  I.  Do  you  remember,  Filippo,  the  oranges 
we  had  in  Italy  ?  " 

"  I  remember  them  well." 

"  I  was  happy,  then,"  said  Giacomo,  sighing.  "  There 
was  no  padrone  to  beat  me,  and  I  could  run  about  and 
play.  Now  I  have  to  sing  and  play  all  day.  I  am  so 
tired  sometimes,  Filippo." 

"  You  are  not  so  strong  as  I,  Giacomo,"  and  Phil 
looked  with  some  complacency  at  his  own  stout  limbs. 

"  Don't  you  get  tired,  Filippo?" 

"  Yes,  often ;  but  I  don't  care  so  much  for  that. 
But  I  don't  like  the  winter." 

"  I  thought  I  should  die  with  cold  sometimes  last 
winter/'  said  Giacomo,  shuddering.  "  Do  you  evei 
expect  to  go  back  to  Itaty,  Filippo  ?  " 

"  Some  time." 


30  PHIL,  THE  FIDDLER;  OR, 

"I  wish  I  could  go  now.  I  should  like  to  see  iny 
dear  mother  and  my  sisters." 

"And  your  father?" 

"  I  don't  want  to  see  him,"  said  Giacomo,  bitteily. 
u  He  sold  me  to  the  padrone.  My  mother  wept  when  I 
went  away,  but  my  father  only  thought  of  the  money." 

Filippo  and  Giacomo  were  from  the  same  town  in 
Calabria.  They  were  the  sons  of  Italian  peasants  who 
had  been  unable  to  resist  the  offers  of  the  padrone, 
and  for  less  than  a  hundred  dollars  each  had  sold  his 
son  into  the  crudest  slavery.  The  boys  were  torn 
from  their  native  hills,  from  their  families,  and  in  a 
foreign  land  were  doomed  to  walk  the  streets  from 
fourteen  to  sixteen  hours  in  every  twenty-four,  gather 
ing  money  Trom  which  they  received  small  benefit. 
Many  *imes,  as  they  trudged  through  the  streets, 
weary  and  hungry,  sometimes  cold,  they  thought  with 
homesick  sadness  of  the  sunny  fields  in  which  their 
earliest  years  had  been  passed,  but  the  hard  realities 
of  the  life  they  were  now  leading  soon  demanded 
their  attention. 

Naturally  light-hearted,  Filippo,  or  Phil,  bore  his 


THE    JOUNQ   STREET  MUSICIAN.  31 

haixJ  lot  more  cheerfully  than  some  of  his  comrades. 
But  Giacomo  was  more  delicate,  and  less  able  to  bear 
want  and  fatigue.  His  livelier  comrade  cheered  him 
up,  and  Giacomo  always  felt  better  after  talking  with 
Phil. 

As  the  two  boys  were  walking  together,  a  heavy 
hand  was  laid  on  the  shoulder  of  each,  and  a  harsh 
voice  said  :  - — 

"Is  this  the  way  you.  waste  your  time,  little 
rascals  ?  " 

Both  boys  started,  and,  looking  up,  recognized  the 
padrone.  He  was  a  short  man,  very  dark,  with  fierce 
black  eyes,  and  a  sinister  countenance.  It  was  his 
habit  to  walk  about  the  streets  from  time  to  time,  and 
keep  a  watch  unobserved,  upon  his  young  apprentices, 
if  they  may  be  so  called.  If  he  found  them  loitering 
about,  or  neglecting  their  work,  they  were  likely  to 
receive  a  sharp  reminder. 

The  boys  were  both  startled  at  his  sudden  appear 
ance,  but,  after  the  first  start,  Phil,  who  was  naturally 
courageous,  recovered  his  self-possession.  Not  so 
Mith  Giacomo,  who  was  the  more  afraid  because  he 
knew  he  had  gained  but  little  money  thus  far. 


52  PHIL,  THE  FIDDLER;  ox, 

"  We  are  not  wasting  our  time,  padrone,"  said  Phil, 
looking  up  fearlessly. 

"  We  will  see  about  that.  How  long  have  you  been 
together?" 

"  Only  five  minutes." 

"How  much  money  have  you,  Filippo?" 

"  A  dollar  and  twenty  cents." 

"  Good  ;  you  have  done  well.  And  how  is  it  with 
you,  Giacomo?" 

" 1  have  forty  cents." 

"  Then  you  have  been  idle,"  said  the  padrone, 
frowning. 

"No,  signore,"  said  the  boy,  trembling.  "I  have 
played,  but  they  did  not  give  me  much  money." 

"  It  is  not  his  fault,"  said  Phil,  coming  boldly  to 
the  defence  of  his  friend. 

"  Attend  to  your  own  affairs,  little  scapegrace," 
said  the  padrone,  roughly.  "  He  might  rave  got  aa 
much  as  you." 

11  No,  padrone ;  I  was  lucky.  A  kind  lady  gave  me 
fifty  cents." 

*'  That  is  not  my  affair.    I  don't  care  where  you  get 


THE    YOUNG   STREET  MUSICIAN.  33 

the  money.  But  if  you  don't  bring  home  all  I  expect, 
you  shall  feel  the  stick." 

These  last  words  were  addressed  to  Giacomo,  who 
understood  their  import  only  too  well.  In  the 
miserable  lodging  where  he  herded  with  thirty  or  forty 
others  scarcely  a  night  passed  without  the  brutal  pun 
ishment  of  one  or  more  unfortunate  boys,  who  had 
been  unsuccessful  in  bringing  home  enough  to  satisfy 
the  rapacity  of  the  padrone.  But  of  this  an  account 
will  hereafter  be  given. 

"  Now,  go  to  work,  both  of  you,"  said  the  padrone, 
harshly. 

The  two  boys  separated.  Giacomo  went  uptown, 
while  Phil  kept  on  his  way  towards  the  Astor  House. 
The  padrone  made  his  way  to  the  nearest  liquor  shop, 
where  he  invested  a  portion  of  the  money  wrung  from 
the  hard  earnings  of  his  3roung  apprentices. 

Towards  the  close  of  the  afternoon  Phil  found  him 
self  in  front  of  the  Astor  House.  He  had  played 
several  times,  but  he  was  not  fortunate  in  finding  lib 
eral  auditors.  He  had  secured  but  ten  cents  during  this 
time,  and  it  seemed  doubtful  whether  he  would  reach 
the  sum  he  wanted.  He  crossed  over  to  the  City  Hall 


34  pmL)  THE  FIDDLER;  OR, 

Park,  and,  feeling  tired,  sat  down  on  one  of  the 
benches.  Two  boot-blacks  were  already  seated  upon 
it. 

"  Play  us  a  tune,  Johnny,"  said  one. 

"Will  you  give  me  pennies?"  asked  Phil,  doubt 
fully,  for  he  did  not  care,  with  such  a  severe  task 
master,  to  work  for  nothing. 

"  Yes,  we'll  give  you  pennies." 

Upon  this  Phil  struck  up  a  tune. 

u  Where's  your  monkey  ?  "  asked  one  of  the  boys. 

"  I  have  no  monkey." 

"  If  you  want  a  monkey,  here's  one  for  you,"  said 
Tim  Rafferty,  putting  his  hand  on  his  companion's 
shoulder. 

"  He's  too  big,"  said  Phil,  laughing. 

uHould  yer  gab,  Tim  Rafferty,"  said  the  other. 
"  It's  you  that'll  make  a  better  monkey  nor  I.  Say, 
Johnny,  do  you  pay  your  monkeys  well?" 

"  Give  me  my  pennies,"  said  Phil,  with  an  eye  to 
business. 

"  Play  another  tune,  then." 

Phil  obeyed  directions.  When  he  had  finished,  a 
contribution  was  taken  up,  but  it  only  amounted  to 


THE    YOUNG   STREET  MUSICIAN.  35 

seven  cents.  However,  considering  the  character  of 
the  audience,  this  was  as  much  as  could  be  ex 
pected. 

u  How  much  have  }TOU  made  to-day,  Johnny?" 
asked  Tim. 

"  A  dollar,"  said  Phil. 

"  A  dollar !  That's  more  nor  I  have  made.  I  tell 
you  what,  boys,  I  think  I'll  buy  a  fiddle  myself.  I'll 
make  more  money  that  way  than  blackin'  boots." 

"  A  great  fiddler  you'd  make,  Tim  Rafferty." 

"  Can't  I  play  then?  Lend  me  your  fiddle,  Johnny, 
till  I  try  it  a  little." 

Phil  shook  his  head. 

"  Give  it  to  me  now ;  I  won't  be  hurtin'  it." 

u  You'll  break  it." 

"  Then  I'll  pay  for  it." 

"  It  isn't  mine." 

"Whose  is  it,  then?" 

"  The  padrone's." 

"  And  who's  the  padrone? " 

"  The  man  I  live  with.  If  the  fiddle  is  broken,  he 
will  beat  me." 

'•  Then  he's  an  ould  haythen,  and  you  may  tell  him 


36  pniL)  THE  FIDDLER;  OTJ, 

BO,  wid  Tim  Rafferty's  compliments.  But  I  won't 
hurt  it." 

Phil,  however,  feared  to  trust  the  violin  in  unskil 
ful  hands.  He  knew  the  penalty  if  any  harm  befell  it, 
and  he  had  no  mind  to  run  the  risk.  So  he  rose  from 
the  seat,  and  withdrew  to  a  little  distance,  Tim  Rafferty 
following,  for,  though  he  cared  little  at  first,  he  now 
felt  determined  to  try  the  fiddle. 

"  If  3^ou  don't  give  it  to  me  I'll  put  a  head  on  you," 
he  said. 

"  You  shall  not  have  it,"  said  Phil,  firmly,  for  he, 
too,  could  be  determined.  _ 

"  The  little  chap's  showin'  fight,"  said  Tim's  com 
panion.  u  Look  out,  Tim  ;  he'll  mash  you." 

"  I  can  fight  him  wid  one  hand,"  said  Tim. 

He  advanced  upon  our  young  hero,  who,  being  much 
smaller,  would  probably  have  been  compelled  to  yield 
to  superior  force  but  for  an  interference  entirely  unex 
pected  by  Tim. 


TO.E    YOUNG   STREET  MUSICIAN.  37 


CHAPTER    IV. 

PHIL   RECEIVES   AN   INVITATION   TO   SUPPER. 

TIM  bad  raised  his  fist  to  strike  the  young  fiddlei, 
when  he  was  suddenly  pushed  aside  with  consider 
able  force,  and  came  near  measuring  his  length  on 
the  ground. 

"  Who  did  that?"  he  cried  angrily,  recovering  hia 
equilibrium. 

"  I  did  it,"  said  a  calm  voice. 

Tim  recognized  in  the  speaker  Paul  Hoffman, 
whom  some  of  my  readers  will  remember  as  "  Paul, 
the  Peddler."  Paul  was  proprietor  of  a  neck-tie 
stand  below  the  Astor  House,  and  was  just  returning 
home  to  supper.  He  was  a  brave  and  manly  boy, 
and  his  sympathies  were  always  in  favor  of  the  op 
pressed.  He  had  met  Phil  before,  and  talked  with 
him,  and  seeing  him  in  danger  came  to  his  assist 
ance. 


38  PHIL,  THE  FIDDLER;  OR, 

"What  made  you  push  me?"  demanded  Tim, 
fiercely. 

"What  were  you  going  to  do  to  him?"  rejoined 
Paul,  indicating  the  Italian  boy. 

"  I  was  only  goin'  to  borrer  his  fiddle." 

"  lie  would  have  broken  it,"  said  Phil. 

"  You  don't  know  how  to  play,"  said  Paul.  "  You 
would  have  broken  his  fiddle,  and  then  he  would  be 
beaten." 

"  I  would  pay  for  it  if  I  did,"  said  Tim. 

"You  say  so,  but  you  wouldn't.  Even  if  you 
did,  it  would  take  time,  and  the  boy  would  have 
suffered." 

"  What  business  is  it  of  yours?"  demanded  Tim, 
angrily. 

"It  is  always  my  business  when  I  see  a  big  boy 
teasing  a  little  one." 

"  You'll  get  hurt  some  day,"  said  Tim,  suddenly. 

"  Not  by  you,"  returned  Paul,  not  particularly 
alarmed. 

Tim  would  gladly  have  punished  Paul  on  the  spot 
for  his  interference,  but  he  did  not  consider  it  prudent 
to  provoke  hostilities.  Paul  was  as  tall  as  himself. 


THE    YOU  NO   STREET  MUSICIAN.  39 

and  considerably  stronger.  He  therefore  confined 
himself  to  threatening  words. 

"  Come  along  with  me,  Phil,"  said  Paul  kindly  to 
the  little  fiddler. 

"  Thank  you  for  saving  me,"  said  Phil,  gratefully. 
"  The  padrone  would  beat  me  if  the  fiddle  was 
broke." 

"  Never  mind  about  thanks,  Phil.  Tim  is  a  bully 
with  small  boys,  but  he  is  a  coward  among  large 
ones.  Have  you  had  any  supper?" 

"  No,"  said  Phil. 

"  Won't  you  come  home  and  take  supper  with 
me?" 

Phil  hesitated. 

"  You  are  kind,"  he  said,  "  but  I  fear  the  pa 
drone." 

"  What  will  he  do  to  you  ?  " 

"  He  will  beat  me  if  I  don't  bring  home  enough 
money/'' 

"  How  mncL  more  must  you  get  ?  " 

"  Sixty  cents." 

"  You  can  play  better  after  a  good  supper.  Come 
along ;  I  won't  keep  }rou  long." 


40  p/z/z,  THE  FIDDLER;  OTJ, 

Phil  made  no  more  objection.  lie  was  a  healthy 
boy,  and  his  wanderings  had  given  him  a  good 
appetite.  So  he  thanked  Paul,  and  walked  along  by 
his  side.  One  object  Paul  had  in  inviting  him  was, 
the  fear  that  Tim  Rafferty  might  take  advantage  of 
his  absence  to  renew  his  assault  upon  Phil,  and  with 
better  success  than  before. 

"  How  old  are  you,  Phil?  "  he  asked. 

"  Twelve  years." 

"  And  who  taught  you  to  play?  " 

"  No  one  ;  I  heard  the  other  boys  play,  and  so  I 
learned." 

"Do  you  like  it?" 

"  Sometimes  ;  but  I  get  tired  of  it." 

"  I  don't  wonder.  I  should  think  playing  day 
after  day  might  tire  you.  "What  are  you  going  to  do 
•when  you  become  a  man  ?  " 

Phil  shrugged  his  shoulders. 

"  I  don't  know,"  he  said.  "  I  think  I'll  go  back  to 
Italy." 

"  Have  you  any  relations  there?" 

"  I  have  a  mother  and  two  sisters." 

"And  a  father?  ' 


THE    YOUNG   STREET  MUSICIAN.  41 

"  Yes,  a  father." 

"  Why  did  they  let  you  come  away  ?  " 

"  The  padrone  gave  my  father  money." 

"  Don't  you  ever  hear  anything  from  home  ?  " 

"  No,  signorc." 

Li 

"  I  am  not  a  signore,"  said  Paul,  smiling.     "  You 
may  call  me  Paul.     Is  that  an  Italian  name  ?  " 

«  Me  call  it  Paolo." 

"  That  sounds  queer  to  me.  What's  James  in 
Italian?" 

"  Giacomo." 

"  Then  I  have  a  little  brother  Giacomo." 

"How  old  is  he?" 

"  Eight  years  old." 

"  My  sister  Bettina  is  eight  years.  I  wish  I  could 
see  her." 

"  You  will  see  her  again  some  day,  Phil.  You 
will  get  rich  in  America,  and  go  back  to  Italy." 

"  The  padrone  takes  all  my  money." 

"  You'll  get  away  from  the  old  rascal  some  day. 
Keep  up  good  courage,  Phil,  and  all  will  come  right. 
But  here  we  are.  Follow  me  upstairs,  and  I  will 
introduce  you  to  my  mother  and  Giacomo,"  said 


42  p/r/z,  THE  FinntKit;  o/?, 

Paul,  laugmng  at  the  Italian  name  lie  bad  given  to 
his  little  brother. 

Mrs.  Hoffman  and  Jimmy  looked  witb  some  sur 
prise  at  tbe  little  fiddler,  as  be  entered  with  Paul. 

"  Mother,"  said  Paul,  "  this  is  one  of  my  friends, 
whom  I  have  invited  to  take  supper  with  us." 

"He  is  welcome,"  said  Mrs.  Hoffman,  kindly. 
"  Have  you  ever  spoken  to  us  of  him?" 

"I  am  not  sure.  His  name  is  Phil  —  Phil,  the 
fiddler,  we  call  him." 

"  Philip,  I  suppose." 

"  Filippo,"  said  the  young  musician. 

"  We  will  call  you  Phil ;  it  is  easier  to  speak," 
said  Paul.  "  This  is  my  little  brother  Jimmy.  He 
is  a  great  artist." 

"  Now  you  are  laughing  at  me,  Paul,"  said  the 
little  boy. 

"  Well,  he  is  going  to  be  a  great  artist  some  time, 
if  he  isn't  one  yet.  Do  you  think,  Jimmy,  you  could 
draw  Phil  here  with  his  fiddle?" 

"  I  think  I  could,"  said  the  little  bey,  slowly, 
looking  carefully  at  their  young  guest;  "but  it 
would  take  some  time.*' 


THE    YOUNG   STREET  MUSICIAN.  43 

**  Perhaps  Phil  will  come  some  day,  and  give  you  a 
Hitting." 

"  Will  you  come?  "  asked  Jimmy 
u  I  will  come  some  day." 

Meanwhile  Mrs.  Hoffman  was   preparing   supper. 

kti 
Since    Paul    had    become  proprietor  of  the   neck-tie/ 

stand,  as  described  in  the  last  volume,  they  were  able 
to  live  with  less  regard  to  economy  than  before.  So, 
when  the  table  was  spread,  it  presented  quite  a 
tempting  appearance.  Beefsteak,  rolls,  fried  pota 
toes,  coffee,  and  preserves  graced  the  board. 

"  Supper  is  ready,  Paul,"  said  his  mother,  when  all 
was  finished. 

"Here,  Phil,  you  may  sit  here,  at  my  right  hand," 
said  Paul.  "  I  will  put  your  violin  where  it  will  not 
be  injured." 

Phil  sat  down  as  directed,  not  without  feeling  a 
little  awkward,  yet  with  a  sense  of  anticipated 
pleasure.  Accustomed  to  bread  and  cheese  alone, 
the  modest  repast  before  him  seemed  like  a  royal 
feast,  The  meat  especially  attracted  him,  for  he  had 
not  tasted  any  for  months,  indeed  seldom  in  Uis  life, 


44  P/ZTZ,  THE  FIDDLER;  oitt 

for  in  Italy  it  is  seldom  eaten  by  the  class  to  which 
Phil's  parents  belonged. 

44  Let  me  give  you  some  meat,  Phil,"  said  Paul. 
•*  Now  shall  we  drink  the  health  of  the  padrone  in 
coffee?" 

44 1  will  not  drink  his  health,"  said  Phil.  "  lie  is  a 
bad  man." 

4'  Who  is  the  padrone?"  asked  Jimmy,  curiously. 

44  He  is  my  master.  He  sends  me  out  to  play  for 
money." 

44  And  must  you  give  the  money  to  him?" 

44  Yes ;  if  I  do  not  bring  much  money  he  will  beat 
me." 

44  Then  he  must  be  a  bad  man.  Why  do  you  live 
with  him?" 

44  He  bought  me  from  my  father." 

44  He  bought  you?"  repeated  Jimmy,  puzzled. 

44  He  hires  him  for  so  much  money,"  explained 
Paul. 

44  But  why  did  your  father  let  you  go  with  a  bad 
man  ?  "  asked  Jimmy. 

44  He  wanted  the  money,"  said  Phil.  44  He  cared 
more  for  money  than  for  me." 


THE    YOUNG   STREET  MUSICIAN.  45 

What  wonder  that  the  boys  sold  into  such  cruel 
slavery  should  be  estranged  from  the  fathers  who  foi 
a  few  paltry  ducats  sell  the  liberty  and  happiness  of 
their  children  !  Even  where  the  contract  is  for  a  lim 
ited  term  of  years,  the  boys  in  five  cases  out  of  ten 
are  not  returned  at  the  appointed  time.  A  part, 
unable  to  bear  the  hardships  and  privations  of  the 
life  upon  which  they  enter,  are  swept  off  by  death, 
•while  of  those  that  survive,  a  part  are  weaned  from 
their  homes,  or  are  not  permitted  to  go  back. 

"  You  must  not  ask  too  many  questions,  Jimmy," 
said  Mrs.  Hoffman,  fearing  that  he  might  awaken  sad 
thoughts  in  the  little  musician. 

She  was  glad  to  see  that  Phil  ate  with  a  good 
appetite.  In  truth  he  relished  the  supper,  which  was 
the  best  he  remembered  to  have  tasted  for  many  a 
long  day. 

"Is  Italy  like  America?"  asked  Jimmy,  whose 
curiosity  was  excited  to  learn  something  of  PhiFs 
birthplace. 

44  It  is  much  nicer,"  said  Phil,  with  natural  love  of 
country.  "  There  are  olive-trees  and  orange-trees, 
and  grapes  —  very  many." 


46  PHIL.  THE  FIDDLER;  ox, 

"Are  there   really  orange-trees?    Have  jod 
them  grow  ?  " 

44 1  have  picked  them  from  the  trees  many  times." 

"  I  should  like  that,  but  I  don't  care  for  olives." 

"  They  are  good  too." 

11 1  should  like  the  grapes." 

"  There  are  other  things  in  Italy,  which  you  would 
like  better,  Jimmy,"  said  Paul. 

"  What  do  you  mean,  Paul  ?  " 

"  The  galleries  of  fine  paintings." 

"  Yes,  I  should  like  to  see  them.  Have  }^ou  seen 
them?" 

Phil  shook  his  head.  The  picture-galleries  are  in 
the  c-ities,  and  not  in  the  country  district  where  he 
was  born. 

"  Some  time,  when  I  am  rich,  we  will  all  go  to 
Italy,  Jimmy ;  then,  if  Phil  is  at  home,  we  will  go 
and  see  him." 

"  I  should  like  that,  Paul." 

Though  Jimmy  was  not  yet  eight  years  old,  he  had 
already  exhibited  a  remarkable  taste  for  drawing, 
and  without  having  received  any  instruction  could 
copy  any  ordinary  picture  with  great  exactness.  It 


THE    YOUNG   STREET  MUSICIAN  47 

was  the  little  bc^'s  ambition  to  become  an  artist,  and 
in  this  ambition  he  was  encouraged  by  Paul,  who 
intended,  as  soon  as  he  could  afford  it,  to  engage  an 
instructor  for  Jimmy. 


PHIL*  THE  FIDDLER; 


CHAPTER    V. 

ON   THE   BROOKLYN   FERRY-BOAT. 

WHEN  supper  was  over,  Phil  bethought  himself 
that  his  day's  work  was  not  yet  over.  He  had  still  a 
considerable  sum  to  obtain  before  he  dared  go  home, 
if  such  a  name  can  be  given  to  the  miserable  tenement 
in  Crosby  Street,  where  he  herded  with  companions. 
But  before  going  he  wished  to  show  his  gratitude  to 
Paul  for  his  protection  and  the  supper  which  he  had 
so  much  enjoyed. 

44  Shall  I  play  for  you?"  he  asked,  taking  his  violin 
from  the  top  of  the  bureau,  where  Paul  had  placed  it. 

"Will  you?"  asked  Jimmy,  his  eyes  lighting  up 
with  pleasure. 

""We  should  be  very  glad  to  hear  you,"  said  Mrs 
Hoffman. 

Phil  played  his  best,  for  he  felt  that  he  was  play 
ing  for  friends.  After  a  short  prelude,  he  struck  into  an 


THE    YOUNG    STREET  MUSICIAN.  49 

Italian  song.  Though  the  words  were  unintelligible, 
the  little  party  enjoyed  the  song. 

"  Bravo,  Phil !  "  said  Paul.  "  You  sing  almost  as 
well  as  I  do." 

Jimmy  laughed. 

"  You  sing  about  as  well  as  you.  draw,"  said  the 
little  boy. 

"  There  you  go  again  with  your  envy  and  jealousy/' 
said  Paul,  in  an  injured  tone.  "  Others  appreciate  me 
better." 

44  Sing  something,  and  we  will  judge  of  your  merits," 
said  his  mother. 

"Not  now,"  said  Paul,  shaking  his  head.  u  My 
feelings  are  too  deeply  injured.  But  if  he  has  time, 
Phil  will  perhaps  favor  us  with  another  song." 

So  the  little  fiddler  once  more  touched  the  strings 
of  his  violin,  and  sang  the  hymn  of  Garibaldi. 

"  lie  has  a  beautiful  voice,"  said  Mrs.  Hoffman  to 
Paul. 

4'  Yes ;  Phil  sings  much  better  than  most  of  his 
class.  Shall  I  bring  him  up  here  again  ?  " 

44  Any  time,  Paul.  We  shall  always  be  glad  to  see 
him." 


50  PHIL,    THE   FIDDLE  It;    OK, 

Here   Phil  took  his  cap  and  prepared  to  depart. 

"Good-by,"  he  said  in  English.  "I  thank  you  all 
for  your  kindness." 

"  Will  you  come  again?"  said  Mrs.  Hoffman.  "  We 
shall  be  glad  to  have  you." 

44  Do  come,"  pleaded  Jimmy,  who  had  taken  a 
fancy  to  the  dark-eyed  Italian  boy,  whose  brilliant 
brown  complexion  contrasted  strongly  with  his  own 
pale  face  and  blue  eyes. 

These  words  gave  Phil  a  strange  pleasure.  Since 
his  arrival  in  America  he  had  become  accustomed  to 
harsh  words  and  blows ;  but  words  of  kindness  were 
strangers  to  his  ears.  For  an  hour  he  forgot  the  street 
and  his  uninviting  home,  and  felt  himself  surrounded 
by  a  true  home  atmosphere.  He  almost  fancied  him 
self  in  his  Calabrian  home,  with  his  mother  and  sisters 
about  him,  —  in  his  home  as  it  was  before  cupidity 
entered  his  father's  heart  and  impelled  him  to  sell  his 
own  flesh  and  blood  into  slavery  in  a  foreign  land. 
Phil  could  not  analyze  his  own  emotions,  but  these 
were  the  feelings  which  rose  in  his  heart,  and  filled  it 
with  transient  sadness. 


THE    YOUNG    STREET  MUSICIAN.  51 

UI  thank  you  much,"  he  said.  "I  will  come 
again  some  day." 

44  Come  soon,  Phil,"  said  Paul.  "  You  know  where 
my  neck-tie  stand  is.  Come  there  any  afternoon  be 
tween  four  and  five,  and  I  will  take  you  home  to  sup 
per.  Do  you  know  the  way  out,  or  shall  I  go  with 
you?" 

"  I  know  the  way,"  said  Phil. 

He  went  downstairs,  and  once  more  found  himself 
on  the  sidewalk. 


It  was  but  six  o'clock,  and  five  or  six  hours  were 
still  before  him,  before  he  could  feel  at  liberty  to  go 
home.  Should  he  return  too  earl}' ,  he  would  be  pun 
ished  for  losing  the  possible  gains  of  the  hour  he  had 
lost,  even  if  the  sum  he  brought  home  were  otherwise 
satisfactory.  So,  whatever  may  be  his  fatigue,  or 
however  inclement  the  weather,  the  poor  Italian  boy 
is  compelled  to  stay  out  till  near  midnight,  before  he 
is  permitted  to  return  to  the  hard  pallet  on  which 
only  he  can  sleep  off  his  fatigues. 

A  gain  in  the  street,  Phil  felt  that  he  must  make  up 
for  lost  time.  Now  six  o'clock  is  not  a  very  favora 
ble  time  for  street  music ;  citizens  who  do  business 


52  PHIL)  THE  FIDDLER;  O.R, 

down  town  have  mostly  gone  home  to  dinner. 
Those  who  have  not  started  are  in  haste,  and  little 
disposed  to  heed  the  appeal  of  the  young  minstrel. 
Later  the  saloons  will  be  well  frcquer  ted,  and  not 
seldom  the  }Tonng  fiddler  may  pick  up  a  few,  some 
times  a  considerable  number  of  pennies,  by  playing 
at  the  doors  of  these  places,  or  within,  if  they  should 
be  invited  to  enter ;  but  at  six  there  is  not  much  to 
be  done. 

After  a  little  reflection,  Phil  determined  to  go  down 
to  Fulton  Ferry,  and  get  on  board  the  Brooklyn 
steamboat.  He  might  get  a  chance  to  play  to  the 
passengers,  and  some,  no  doubt,  would  give  him  some 
thing.  At  any  rate,  the  investment  would  be  small, 
since  for  one  fare,  or  two  cents,  he  might  ride  back 
and  forwards  several  times,  as  long  as  he  did  not 
step  off  the  boat.  He,  therefore,  directed  his  steps 
towards  the  ferry,  and  arrived  just  in  time  to  go  on 
board  the  boat. 

The  boat  was  very  full.  So  large  a  number  of  the 
people  in  Brooklyn  are  drawn  to  New  York  ivy  busi 
ness  and  pleasure,  that  the  boats,  particularly  in  the 
morning  from  seven  to  nine,  and  in  the  afternoon 


THE    YOUNG    STREET  MUSICIAN.  53 

from  five  to  seven,  go  loaded  down  with  foot-passen 
gers  and  carriages. 

Phil  entered  the  ladies'  cabin.  Though  ostensibly 
confined  to  ladies'  use,  it  was  largely  occupied  also 
by  gentlemen  who  did  not  enjoy  the  smoke  which 
usually  affects  disagreeably  the  atmosphere  of  the 
cabin  appropriated  to  their  own  sex.  Our  j'oung 
musician  knew  that  to  children  the  hearts  and  purses 
of  ladies  are  more  likely  to  open,  than  those  of  gen 
tlemen,  and  this  guided  him. 

Entering,  he  found  every  seat  taken.  He  waited 
till  the  boat  had  started,  and  then  taking  his  position 
in  the  centre  of  the  rear  cabin  he  began  to  play  and 
sing,  fixing  at  once  the  attention  of  the  passengers 
upon  himself. 

"  That  boy's  a  nuisance ;  he  ought  not  to  be 
allowed  to  play  on  the  boat,"  muttered  an  old  gentle 
man,  looking  up  from  the  columns  of  the  "  Evening 
Post." 

"  Now,  papa,"  said  a  young  lady  at  his  side,  "  why 
need  you  object  to  the  poor  boy?  I  am  sure  he  sings 
very  nicely.  I  like  to  hear  him." 

"  I  don't." 


64  pniLj  THE  FIDDLER;  on, 


"  You  know,  papa,  you  have  no  taste  for  music. 
You  went  to  sleep  at  the  opera  the  other  evening." 

"  I  tried  to/*  said  her  father,  in  whom  musical 
taste  ha-I  a  very  limited  development.  "  It  was  all 
nonsense  to  me." 

"  lie  is  singing  the  Hymn  of  Garibaldi.  What  a 
sweet  voice  he  has  !  Such  a  handsome  little  fellow 
too  !  " 

"He  has  a  dirty  face,  and  his  clothes  are  ragged." 

"  But  he  has  beautiful  eyes  ;  see  how  brilliant  they 
are.  No  wonder  he  is  dirty  and  ragged  ;  it  isn't 
his  fault,  poor  boy.  I  have  no  doubt  he  has  a  mis 
erable  home.  I  am  going  to  give  him  something." 

"  Just  as  you  like,  Florence  ;  as  I  am  not  a  roman 
tic  young  damsel,  I  shall  not  follow  your  example." 

By  this  time  the  song  was  finished,  and  Phil,  tak 
ing  off  his  cap,  went  the  rounds.  None  of  the  con 
tributions  were  larger  than  five  cents,  until  he  came 
to  the  3'oung  lady  of  whom  we  have  spoken  above. 
She  drew  a  twenty-five-cent  note  from  her  porte- 
monnaie,  and  put  it  into  Phil's  hand,  with  a  gracious 
smile,  which  pleased  the  young  fiddler  as  much  as  the 
gift. 


THE    YOU  NO    STREET  MUSICIAN.  55 

"  Thank  you,  lady,"  he  said. 

"  You  sing  very  nicely,"  she  replied. 

Phil  smiled,  and  dirty  though  his  face  was,  the 
smile  lighted  it  up  with  rare  beauty. 

"Do  you  often  come  on  these  boats?"  asked  the 
young  lad}r. 

"  Sometimes,  but  they  do  not  always  let  me  play," 
said  Phil. 

"  I  hope  I  shall  hear  you  again.  You  have  a  good 
voice." 

"  Thank  you,  signorina." 

"  You  can  speak  English.  I  tried  to  spaak  with 
one  of  you  the  other  da}r,  but  he  could  only  speak 
Italian." 

"  I  know  a  few  words,  signorina." 

"I  hope  I  shall  see  you  again,"  and  the  young 
lady,  prompted  by  a  natural  impulse  of  kindness, 
held  out  her  hand  to  the  little  musician.  He  took  it 
respectfully,  and  bending  over  touched  it  with  his  lips. 

The  young  lacty,  to  whom  this  was  quite  unex 
pected,  smiled  and  blushed,  by  no  means  offended, 
but  she  glanced  round  her  to  see  whether  it  was 
observed  by  others. 


5 A  PHIL,    THE   FIDDLE  n;    O/?, 

"  Upon  my  word,  Florence,"  said  her  father,  as 
Phil  moved  away,  "  you  have  got  up  quite  a  scene 
with  this  little  ragged  musician.  I  am  rather  glad  he 
is  not  ten  or  twelve  years  older,  or  there  might  be 
a  i-omantic  elopement." 

"  Now,  papa,  you  are  too  bad,"  said  Florence. 
"  Just  because  I  choose  to  be  kind  to  a  poor,  neg 
lected  child,  you  fancy  all  sorts  of  improbable 
things." 

"I  don't  know  where  3'ou  get  all  }Tour  foolish 
romance  from,  —  not  from  me,  I  am  sure." 

"I  should  think  not,"  said  Florence,  laughing  mer 
rily.  u  Your  worst  enemy  won't  charge  you  with 
being  romantic,  papa." 

"  I  hope  not,"  said  her  father,  shrugging  his  shoul 
ders.  "  But  the  boat  has  touched  the  pier.  Shall 
we  go  on  shore,  or  have  you  any  further  business 
with  your  young  Italian  friend?" 

"Not  to-da}7,  papa." 

The  passengers  vacated  the  boat,  and  were  replaced 
by  a  smaller  number,  on  their  way  from  Brooklyn  to 
New  York. 


THE    YOUNG   STREET  MUSICIAN.  57 


CHAPTER    VI. 

THE    BAR-ROOM. 

PHIL  did  not  leave  the  boat  He  lingered  in  the 
cabin  until  the  passengers  were  seated,  and  after  the 
boat  was  again  under  way  began  to  play.  This  time, 
however,  he  was  not  as  fortunate  as  before.  While 
in  the  midst  of  a  tune  one  of  the  men  employed  on 
the  boat  entered  the  cabin.  At  times  he  would  not 
have  interfered  with  him,  but  he  happened  to  be  in 
an  ill-humor,  and  this  proved  unfortunate  for  Phil. 

"  Stop  your  ncise,  boy,"  he  said. 

Phil  looked  up. 

"May  I  not  play?" 

"  No  ;  nobody  wants  to  hear  you." 

The   young  fiddler  did  not  dare  to  disobey.     He 
saw  tnat  for  the  present  his  gains  were  at  an  end 
However,  he  had  enough  to  satisfy  the  rapacity  of 
the  padrone,  and  could  afford  to  stop.     He  took  a 
seat,  and  waited  quietly  till  the  boat  landed.     One 


58  PHIL,  THE  FIDDLER;  o/?, 

of  the  lady  passengers,  as  she  passed  him  on  her  way 
out  of  the  cabin,  placed  ten  cents  in  his  hand.  This 
led  him  to  count  tip  his  gains.  He  found  they 
amounted  to  two  dollars  and  fifty  cents. 

"  I  need  not  play  any  more,"  he  thought.  u  I 
shall  not  be  beaten  to-night." 

He  found  his  seat  so  comfortable,  especially  after 
wandering  about  the  streets  all  da}',  that  he  remained 
in  the  boat  for  two  more  trips.  Then,  taking  his 
violin  under  his  arm,  he  went  out  on  the  pier. 

It  was  half-past  seven  o'clock.  He  would  like  to 
have  gone  to  his  lodging,  but  knew  that  it  would  not 
be  permitted.  In  this  respect  the  Italian  fiddler  is 
not  as  well  off  as  those  who  ply  other  street  trades. 
Newsboj's  and  boot-blacks  are  their  own  masters, 
and,  whether  their  earnings  are  little  or  great,  reap 
the  benefit  of  them  themselves.  They  can  stop  work 
at  six  if  they  like,  or  earlier ;  but  the  little  Italian 
musician  must  remain  in  the  street  till  near  midnight, 
and  then,  after  a  long  and  fatiguing  day,  he  is  liable 
to  be  beaten  and  sent  to  bed  without  his  supper, 
unless  he  brings  home  a  satisfactory  sum  of  money. 

Phil  walked  about  here  and  there  in  1  he  lower  part 


THE    YOUNG   STREET  MUSICIAN.  59 

of  the  city.  As  he  was  passing  a  bar-room  he  was 
called  in  by  the  bar-keeper. 

"  Give  us  a  tune,  boy,"  he  said. 

It  was  a  low  bar-room,  frequented  by  sailors,  and  a 
rough  set  of  customers,  of  similar  character.  The 
red  face  of  the  bar-keeper  showed  that  he  liberally 
patronized  the  liquors  which  he  sold.  The  floor  was 
sanded,  and  the  atmosphere  was  filled  with  the  fumes 
of  bad  cigars  and  bad  liquor.  The  men  were  ready 
for  a  good  time,  as  they  called  it,  and  it  was  at  the 
suggestion  of  one  of  them  that  Phil  had  been  invited 
in. 

"  Play  a  tune  on  your  fiddle,  you  little  raga 
muffin,"  said  one. 

Phil  cared  little  how  he  was  addressed.  He  was  at 
the  service  of  the  public,  and  what  he  chiefly  cared 
for  was  to  be  paid  for  his  services. 

"  What  shall  I  play?  "  he  asked. 

"  Anything,"  hiccoughed  one.  "  It's  all  the  same 
"X)  me.  I  don't  know  one  tune  from  another." 

The  3roung  fiddler  played  one  of  the  popular  airs 
of  the  day.  He  did  not  undertake  to  sing,  for  the 
atmosphere  was  so  bad  that  he  could  hardly  avoid 


60  PHIL,  THE  FIDDLER;  on, 

coughing.  He  was  anxious  to  get  out  into  the  street, 
but  he  did  not  wish  to  refuse  playing.  When  he  had 
finished  his  tune,  one  of  those  present,  a  sailor  cried, 
"  That's  good.  Step  up,  bo}'s,  and  have  a  drink." 

The  invitation  was  readil}r  accepted  by  all  except 
Phil.  Noticing  that  the  boy  kept  his  place,  the 
sailor  said,  "  Step  up,  boy,  and  wet  3-0111*  whistle." 

Phil  liked  the  weak  wines  of  his  native  land,  but. 
he  did  not  care  for  the  poisonous  decoctions  to  be 
found  in  such  places. 

"  I  am  not  thirst}',"  he  said. 

"  Yes,  you  are ;  here,  give  this  boy  a  glass  of 
brandy." 

"  I  do  not  want  it,"  said  Phil. 

"  You  won't  drink  with  us,"  exclaimed  the  sailor, 
who  had  taken  enough  to  be  quarrelsome.  "  Then 
I'll  make  you ;  "  and  he  brought  down  his  fist  so 
heavily  upon  the  counter  as  to  make  the  glasses 
rattle.  "Then  I'll  make  you.  Hero,  give  me  a 
glass,  and  I'll  pour  it  down  his  throat." 

The  little  fiddler  was  frightened  at  his  vehemence, 
and  darted  to  the  door.  But  the  sailor  was  too  quick 
for  him.  Overtaking  Phil,  he  dragged  him  back  with 


THE    YOUXG    STREET  MUSICIAN.  61 

a  rough  grasp,  and  held  out  his  hand  for  the  glass 
But  an  unexpected  friend  turned  up. 

"Oh,  let  the  boy  go,  Jack,"   said  a  fcllow-sailoi 
"  If  lie  don't  want  to  drink,  don't  force  him." 

But  his  persecutor  was  made  ugly  by  his  potations, 
and  swore  that  Phil  should  drink  before  he  left  the 
bar-room. 

44  That  he  shall  not,"  said  his  new  friend. 

""Who  is  to  prevent  it?"  demanded  Jack,  fiercely. 

"IwJ.ll." 

"  Then  I'll  pour  a  glass  down  your  throat,  too," 
returned  Jack,  menacingly. 

"  No  need  of  that.     I  am  ready  enough  to  drink 
But  the  boy  shan't  drink,  —  if  he  don't  want  to." 

"  lie  shall !  "  retorted  the  first  sailor  with  an  oath. 

Still  holding  Phil  by  the  shoulder  with  one  hand, 
with  the  other  he  took  a  glass  which  had  just  been 
filled  with  brandy  ;  he  was  about  to  pour  it  clown  his 
Ihroat,  when  the  glass  was  suddenly  dashed  from  his 
hand  and  broke  upon  the  floor. 

With  a  fresh  oath  Jack  released  his  hold  of  Phil, 
and,  maddened  with  rage,  threw  himself  upon  the 
other.  Instantly  there  was  a  general  melee  PM1 


62  PHIL,  THE  FIDDLER;  OTJ, 

did  not  wait  to  see  the  result.  He  ran  to  the  door, 
and,  emerging  into  the  street,  ran  away  till  he  had 
placed  a  considerable  distance  between  himself  and 
the  disorderly  and  drunken  party  in  the  bar-room. 
The  fight  there  continued  until  the  police,  attracted 
by  the  noise,  forced  an  entrance  and  carried  away  the 
whole  party  to  the  station-house,  where  they  had  a 
chance  to  sleep  off  their  potations. 

Freed  from  the  immediate  danger,  the  }'oung  fid 
dler  kept  on  his  way.  He  had  witnessed  such  scenes 
before,  as  he  had  often  been  into  bar-rooms  to  play 
in  the  evening.  He  had  not  been  paid  for  his 
trouble,  but  he  cared  little  for  that,  as  the  money 
would  have  done  him  no  good.  He  would  only  have 
been  compelled  to  pass  it  over  to  the  padrone. 


These  boys,  even  at  a  tender  age,  are  necessarily 
made  familiar  with  the  darker  side  of  metropolitan 
life.  Vice  and  crime  are  displayed  before  their 
young  eyes,  and  if  they  do  not  themselves  become 
vicious,  it  is  not  for  the  want  of  knowledge  anj 
example. 

It  would  be  tedious  to  follow  Phil  in  his  wander 
ings.     We  have  already  had  a  glimpse  of  t\Q  manner 


THE    YOUNG   STREET  MUSICIAN.  63 

m  which  the  days  passed  with  him ;  only  it  is  to  be 
said  that  this  was  a  favorable  specimen.  He  had 
been  more  fortunate  in  collecting  money  than  usual. 
Besides,  he  had  had  a  better  dinner  than  usual, 
thanks  to  the  apple,  and  a  supper  such  as  he  had  not 
tasted  for  months. 

About  ten  o'clock,  as  he  was  walking  on  the  Bow 
ery,  he  met  Giacomo,  his  companion  of  the  morning. 

The  little  boy  was  dragging  one  foot  after  the 
other  wearily.  There  was  a  sad  look  on  his  young 
face,  for  he  had  not  been  successful,  and  he  knew  too 
well  how  he  would  be  received  by  the  padrone.  Yet 
his  face  lighted  up  as  he  saw  Phil.  Often  before 
Phil  had  encouraged  him  when  he  was  despondent. 
He  looked  upon  our  young  hero  as  his  only  friend ; 
for  there  was  no  other  of  the  boys  who  seemed  to 
care  for  him  or  be  able  to  help  him. 

"  Is  it  you,  Filippo?  "  he  said. 

"  Yes,  Giacomo.     What  luck  have  you.  had  ?  " 

u  Not  much.  I  have  only  a  little  more  than  a 
dollar.  1  am  so  tired  ;  but  I  don't  dare  to  go  back. 
The  padrone  will  beat  me." 

An  idea  came  to   Phil.     lie   did   not   know   how 


64  PHIL,  THE  FIDDLER;  oiz, 

much  money  he  had ;  but  he  was  sure  it  must  be 
considerably  more  than  two  dollars.  Why  should  he 
not  give  some  to  his  friend  to  make  up  his  deficien 
cies,  and  so  perhaps  save  him  from  punishment? 

"  I  have  had  better  luck,"  he  said.  "  I  have  almost 
three  dollars." 

"  You  are  always  luckier  than  I,  Filippo." 

"  I  am  stronger,  Giacomo.  It  does  not  tire  me  so 
much  to  walk  about." 

"  You  can  sing  too.  I  cannot  sing  very  much,  and 
I  do  not  get  so  much  money." 

t(  Tell  me  just  how  much  money  you  have, 
Giacomo." 

"  I  have  a  dollar  and  thirty  cents,"  said  Giacomo, 
after  counting  the  contents  of  his  pockets. 

Meanwhile  Phil  had  been  doing  the  same  thing. 
The  result  of  his  count  was,  that  he  found  he  had  two 
dollars  and  eighty  cents. 

"Listen,  Giacomo,"  he  said.  "  I  will  give  you 
enough  to  make  two  dollars." 

"  But  then  you  will  be  beaten." 

"  No ;  I  shall  have  two  dollars  and  five  cents  left. 
Then  neither  of  us  will  get  beaten." 


THE    YOUNG   STREET  MUSICIAN.  65 

"  How  kind  you  arc,  Filippo  ! " 

"  Oh,  it  is  nothing.  Besides,  I  do  not  want  to  carry 
too  much,  or  the  padrone  will  expect  me  to  bring  as 
much  every  day,  and  that  I  cannot  do.  So  it  will  be 
better  for  us  both." 

The  transfer  was  quickly  made,  and  the  two  boys 
kept  together  until  they  heard  the  clocks  strike  eleven. 
It  was  now  so  late  that  they  determined  to  return  to 
their  miserable  lodging,  for  toth  were  tired  and 
longed  for  sleep. 


66  pniL)  THE  FIDDLER;  on* 


CHAPTER    VII. 

THE   HOME    OP   THE   FIDDLER  BOYS. 

IT  was  quarter  past  eleven  when  Phil  and  Giacomo 
entered  the  shabby  brick  house  which  they  called 
home,  for  want  of  a  better.  From  fifteen  to  twenty 
of  their  companions  had  already  arrived,  and  the 
padrone  was  occupied  in  receiving  their  several  con 
tributions.  The  apartment  was  a  mean  one,  misera 
bly  furnished,  but  seemed  befitting  the  principal  occu 
pant,  whose  dark  face  was  marked  by  an  expression 
of  greed,  and  alternately  showed  satisfaction  or  dis 
appointment  as  the  contents  of  the  boys'  pockets  were 
satisfactory  or  otherwise.  Those  who  had  done 
badly  were  set  apart  for  punishment. 

He  looked  up  as  the  two  boys  entered. 

"  Well,  Filippo,"  he  said  harshly,  "  how  much  have 
you  got?" 

Phil  handed  over  his  earnings      They  were  up  to 


TUB    YOUNG   STREET  MUSICIAN.  67 

the  required  limit,  but  the  padrone  looked  only  half 
satisfied. 

"  Is  that  all  you  have?  "  he  asked  suspiciously. 

"It  is  all,  signore." 

"You  have  not  done  well  this  afternoon,  then. 
When  I  met  you  at  twelve  o'clock  you  had  more 
than  a  dollar." 

"  It  was  because  a  good  signora  gave  me  fifty  cents." 

The  padrone,  still  suspicious,  plunged  his  hands 
into  Phil's  pockets,  but  in  vain.  He  could  not  find 
another  penny. 

"Take  off  your  shoes  and  stockings,"  he  said,  still 
unsatisfied. 

Phil  obediently  removed  his  shoes  and  stockings,  but 
no  money  was  found  concealed,  as  the  padrone  half 
suspected.  Sometimes  those  poor  boys,  beset  by  a 
natural  temptation,  secrete  a  portion  of  their  daily 
earnings.  Whenever  they  are  detected,  woe  betide 
them.  The  padrone  makes  an  example  of  them,  in 
flicting  a  cruel  punishment,  in  order  to  deter  other 
boys  from  imitating  them. 

Having  discovered  nothing,  he  took  Phil's  violin, 
and  proceeded  to  Giacomo. 


63  PHIL,  THE  FIDDLER;  on, 

"  Now  for  you,"  be  said. 

Giacomo  banded  over  bis  money.  Tbe  padrone  was 
surprised  in  turn,  but  bis  surprise  was  of  a  different 
nature.  He  bad  expected  to  find  him  deficient,  know 
ing  that  be  was  less  enterprising  than  Phil.  He  was 
glad  to  get  more  money  than  he  expected,  but  a  little 
disappointed  that  be  bad  no  good  excuse  for  beating 
him  ;  for  he  had  one  of  those  hard,  cruel  natures  that 
delight  in  inflicting  pain  and  anguish  upon  others. 

"  Take  care  that  you  do  as  well  to-morrow,"  he  said. 
"  Go  and  get  your  supper." 

One  of  the  larger  boys  was  distributing  bread 
and  cheese  to  the  hungry  boys.  Nearly  all  ate  as  if 
famished,  plain  and  uninviting  as  was  the  supper,  for 
they  bad  been  many  hours  without  food.  But  Phil, 
who,  as  we  know,  had  eaten  a  good  supper  at  Mrs. 
Hoffman's,  felt  very  little  appetite.  lie  slyly  gave  his 
bread  to  one  of  the  boys,  who,  on  account  of  the  small 
sum  he  brought  home,  had  been  sentenced  to  go  with 
out.  But  the  sharp  C3res  of  the  padrone,  which, 
despite  his  occupation,  managed  to  see  all  that  was 
going  on,  detected  this  action,  and  be  became  suspi 
cious  that  Phil  had  bought  supper  out  of  his  earnings 


THE    YOUNG   STREET  MUSICIAN.  69 

"  Why  did  you  give  3rour  bread  to  Giuseppe?"  he 
demanded. 

"Because  I  was  not  hungry,"  answered  Phil. 

"Why  were  you  not  hungry?  Did  you  buy  some 
supper  ? " 

"  No,  signorc." 

"  Then  you  should  be  hungry." 

"  A  kind  lady  gave  me  some  supper." 

"  How  did  it  happen?  " 

"  I  knew  her  son.  His  name  is  Paolo.  He  asked 
me  to  go  home  with  him.  Then  he  gave  me  a  good 
supper." 

"  How  long  were  you  there?  You  might  have  been 
playing,  and  brought  me  some  more  money,"  said  the 
padrone,  who,  with  characteristic  meanness,  grudged 
the  young  fiddler  time  to  eat  the  meal  that  cost  him 
nothing. 

"  It  was  not  long,  signore." 

"You  can  eat  what  is  given  you,  but  you  must  not 
waste  too  much  time." 

A  boy  entered  next,  who  showed  by  his  hesitating 
manner  that  he  did  not  anticipate  a  good  reception 


70  PIIIL,  THE  FIDDLER;  OR, 

The  padrone,  accustomed  to  judge  by  appearances 
instantly  divined  this. 

"  Well,  Ludovico,"  he  said  sharply,  "  what  do  you 
bring  me?" 

"Pardon,  padrone,"  said  Ludovico,  producing  a 
email  sum  of  money.  u  I  could  not  help  it." 

"  Seventy-five  cents  !  "  repeated  the  padrone,  indig 
nantly.  "  You  have  been  idle,  yon  little  wretch !  " 

"  No,  padrone.  Indeed,  I  did  my  best.  The  people 
would  not  give  me  money." 

u  Where  did  you  go?  " 

<;  I  was  in  Brooklyn." 

"  You  have  spent  some  of  the  money." 

"  No,  padrone." 

"  You  have  been  idle,  then.  No  supper  to-night. 
Pietro,  my  stick  !  " 


Pietro  was  one  of  the  older  bo}'s.  lie  was  ugly 
physically,  and  his  disposition  corresponded  with  hia 
appearance.  lie  could  have  few  good  traits,  or  he 
would  not  have  possessed  the  confidence  of  the  pa 
drone  lie  was  an  efficient  assistant  of  the  latter, 
and  co-operated  with  him  in  oppressing  the  other 
ooys.  Indeed,  he  was  a  nephew  of  the  padrone's, 


THE    YOUNG   STREET  MUSICIAN',  71 

and  for  this  reason,  as  well  as  his  similarity  of  dis 
position,  he  was  treated  with  unusual  indulgence. 
Whenever  the  padrone  felt  suspicious  of  any  of  the 
boys,  he  usually  sent  them  out  in  company  with 
Pietro,  who  acted  as  a  spy,  faithfully  reporting  all 
that  happened  to  his  principal. 

Pietro  responded  with  alacrity  to  the  command  of 
the  padrone,  and  produced  a  stout  stick,  which  he 
handed  to  his  uncle. 

"  Now,  strip  off  your  jacket,"  said  the  padrone, 
harshly. 

"  Spare  me,  padrone  !  Do  not  beat  me  !  It  was 
not  my  fault,"  said  Ludovico,  imploringly. 

"  Take  off  your  jacket ! "  repeated  the  padrone* 
pitilessly. 

One  look  at  that  hard  face  might  have  taught  Lu- 
dovico,  even  if  he  had  not  witnessed  the  punishment 
so  often  inflicted  on  other  boys,  that  there  was  no 
hope  for  him. 

"  Help  him,  Pietro,"  said  the  padrone. 

Pietro  seized  Ludovico's  jacket,  and  pulled  it  off 
roughly.  Then  he  drew  off  the  ragged  shirt  which 


72  PHIL,    THE   FIDDLE  It;    OB, 

the  boy  wore  underneath,  and  his  bare  back  was  ex 
posed  to  view. 

"  Hold  him,  Pietro  !  " 

In  Pietro's  firm  grasp,  the  boy  was  unable  to  stir. 
The  padrone  whirled  the  stick  aloft,  and  brought 
it  down  upon  the  naked  flesh,  leaving  behind  a  fear 
ful  wail. 

Ludovico  shrieked  aloud,  and  again  implored 
mercy,  but  in  vain,  for  the  stick  descended  again  and 
again. 

Meanwhile  the  other  boys  looked  on,  helpless  to 
interfere.  The  more  selfish  were  glad  that  they  had 
escaped,  though  not  at  all  sure  but  it  would  be  their 
turn  the  next  evening.  There  were  others  who  felt 
a  passive  sympathy  for  their  unlucky  comrade. 
Others  were  filled  with  indignation  at  the  padrone, 
knowing  how  cruel  and  unjust  were  his  exactions. 
Among  these  was  Phil.  Possessed  of  a  warm  and 
sympathetic  heart,  lie  never  witnessed  these  cruel 
punishments  without  feeling  that  he  would  like  to  see 
die  padrone  suffering  the  same  pain  which  he  inflicted 
ipon  others. 

"  If  I  were  onl\  a   man,"  he  often   thought,    "  I 


THE    YOUNG   STREET  MUSICIAN.  73 

would  wrench  the  stick  from  his  hand,  and  give  him 
a  chance  to  feel  it." 

But  he  knew  too  well  the  danger  of  permitting  his 
real  sentiments  to  be  reflected  in  his  face.  It  would 
only  bring  upon  him  a  share  of  the  same  punishment, 
without  benefiting  those  who  were  unfortunate 
enough  to  receive  it. 

When  Ludovico's  punishment  was  ended,  he  was 
permitted  to  go  to  bed,  but  without  his  supper.  Nor 
was  his  tile  only  case.  Five  other  boys  were  subjected 
to  the  same  punishment.  The  stick  had  no  want  of  ex 
ercise  on  that  evening.  Here  were  nearly  forty  boys, 
subjected  to  excessive  fatigue,  privation,  and  brutal 
treatment  daily,  on  account  of  the  greed  of  one  man. 
The  hours  that  should  have  been  given  in  part  to  in 
struction,  and  partly  to  such  recreation  as  the  youth 
ful  heart  craves,  were  devoted  to  a  pursuit  that  did 
nothing  to  prepare  them  for  the  duties  of  life.  And 
this  white  slavery  —  for  it  merits  no  better  name  —  is 
permitted  by  the  law  of  two  great  nations.  Italy  19 
in  fault  in  suffering  this  traffic  in  her  children  of 
tender  years,  and  America  is  guilty  as  well  in  not 
interfering,  as  she  mi^ht,  at  all  events,  to  abridge  the 


74  PHIL.  THE  FIDDLER;  OTJ, 

long  hours  of  labor  required  of  these  boys,  and  forc 
ing  their  cruel  guardians  to  give  them  some  instruo 
tion. 

One  by  one  the  boys  straggled  in.  By  midnight 
all  had  returned,  and  the  boys  were  permitted  to 
retire  to  their  beds,  which  were  poor  enough.  This, 
however,  was  the  least  of  their  troubles.  Sound  are 
the  slumbers  of  youth,  however  hard  the  couch  on 
which  it  rests,  especially  when,  as  with  all  the  young 
Italian  boys,  the  day  has  been  one  of  fati^ne. 


THE    YOUNQ   STREET  MUSICIAN,  75 


CHAPTER    VIII. 

A    COLD    DAT. 

THE  events  thus  far  recorded  in  the  life  of  our 
young  hero  took  place  on  a  day  towards  the  middle  of 
October,  when  the  temperature  was  sufficiently  mild 
to  produce  no  particular  discomfort  in  those  exposed 
to  it.  We  advance  our  story  two  months,  and  behold 
Phil  setting  out  for  his  day's  wandering  on  a  morning 
in  December,  when  the  keen  blasts  swept  through  the 
streets,  sending  a  shiver  through  the  frames  even  of 
those  who  were  well  protected.  How  much  more,  then, 
must  it  be  felt  by  the  young  street  musician,  who,  with 
the  exception  of  a  woollen  tippet,  wore  nothing  more 
or  warmer  than  in  the  warmer  months !  Yet,  Phil, 
with  his  naturally  vigorous  frame  was  better  able  to 
bear  the  rigor  of  the  winter  weather  than  some  of  his 
comrades,  as  Giacomo,  to  whom  the  long  hours  spent 
in  the  streets  were  ladc-a  with  suffering  and  misery. 

The  two  boys  went  about  together  when  they  dared 


76  rniLi  THE  FIDDLER;  OK, 

to  do  so,  though  the  padrone  objected,  but  for  what 
reason  it  did  not  seem  manifest,  unless  because  he 
suspected  that  the  two  would  plan  something  prcjn» 
dicial  to  his  interests.  Phil,  who  was  generally  more 
successful  than  Giacomo,  often  made  up  his  smaller 
comrade's  deficiencies  by  giving  him  a  portion  of  his 
own  gains,^ 

It  was  a  raw  dajr.  Only  those  who  felt  absolutely 
obliged  to  be  out  were  to  be  seen  in  the  streets  ;  but 
among  these  were  our  two  little  fiddlers.  Whatever 
might  be  the  weather,  they  were  compelled  to  expose 
themselves  to  its  severity.  However  the  boys  might 
suffer,  they  must  bring  him  the  usual  amount.  But  at 
eleven  o'clock  the  prospects  seemed  rather  discourag 
ing.  They  had  but  twenty-five  cents  between  them, 
nor  would  any  one  stop  to  listen  to  their  playing. 

"I  wish  it  were  night,  Filippo,"  said  Giacomo, 
shivering  with  cold. 

"  So  do  I,  Giacomo,     Are  you  very  cold?  " 

"  Yes, "  said  the  little  bo}^,  his  teeth  chattering.  "  [ 
wish  I  were  back  in  Italy.  It  is  never  so  cold  there." 

"  No,  Giacomo ;  you  are  right.  But  I  would  not 
xnind  the  cold  so  much,  if  I  had  a  warm  overcoat  like 


THE    YOUNG   STREET  MUSICIAN'.  77 

that  boy,"  pointing  out  a  boy  clad  in  a  thick  overcoat, 
and  a  fur  cap  drawn  down  over  his  ears,  while  his 
hands  were  encased  in  warm  gloves. 

He,  too,  looked  at  the  two  fiddlers,  and  he  could  not 
help  noticing  how  cold  they  looked. 

"Look  here,  you  little  chaps,  are  you  cold?  You 
look  as  if  you  had  just  come  from  Greenland." 

"  Yes,"  said  Phil.     "  We  are  cold." 

"  Your  hands  look  red  enough.  Here  is  an  old  pah 
of  gloves  for  one  of  you.  I  wish  I  had  another  pair. 
They  are  not  very  thick,  but  they  are  better  than 
none." 

He  drew  a  pair  of  worsted  gloves  from  his  pocket, 
and  handed  them  to  Phil. 

"  Thank  you,"  said  Phil ;  but,  having  received 
them,  he  gave  them  to  Giacomo. 

"You  are  colder  than  I  am,  Giacomo,"  he  said 
"  Take  them." 

"  But  you  are  cold,  too,  Filippo." 

"  I  will  put  my  hands  in  my  pockets.  Don't  mind 
me." 

Of  course  this  conversation  took  place  in  Italian ; 


78  pniL,  THE  FIDDLER;  ux, 

for,  though  Phil  had  learned  considerable  English) 
Giacomo  knew  but  a  few  words  of  it. 

The  gloves  afforded  some  protection,  but  still  both 
boys  were  very  cold.  They  were  in  Brooklyn,  hav 
ing  crossed  the  ferry  in  the  morning.  They  had 
wandered  to  a  part  not  closely  built  up,  where  they 
were  less  sheltered,  and  experienced  greater  discom 
fort. 

"Can't  we  go  in  somewhere  and  get  warm?" 
pleaded  Giacomo. 

"  Here  is  a  grocery  store.     We  will  go  in  there.** 

Phil  opened  the  door  and  entered.  The  shop 
keeper,  a  peevish-looking  man,  with  lightish  hair, 
stood  behind  the  counter  weighing  out  a  pound  of 
tea  for  a  customer. 


"  What  do  you  want  here,  you  little  vagabonds?" 
he  exclaimed,  harshly,  as  he  saw  the  two  boys  enter. 

"We  are  cold,"  said  Phil.  "May  we  stand  by 
your  stove  and  get  warm?" 

"  Do  you  think  I  provide  a  fire  for  all  the  vaga 
bonds  in  the  city?"  said  the  grocer,  with  a  bruta? 
disregard  of  their  w^iae^c  suffering. 


THE    JOUNG   STREET  MUSICIAN.  79 

Phil  hesitated,  not  knowing  whether  he  was  or 
dered  out,  or  not. 

"  Clear  out  of  my  store,  I  say  !  "  said  the  groce^ 
harshly.  UI  don't  want  you  in  here." 

At  this  moment  a  gentleman  of  prepossessing  ap 
pcarance  entered  the  store.  He  heard  the  grocer's 
last  words,  and  their  inhumanity  made  him  indig 
nant. 

"What  do  these  boys  want,  Mr.  Perkins?"  hi 
said. 

u  They  want  to  spend  their  time  in  my  shop.  I 
have  no  room  for  such  vagabonds." 

"  We  are  cold,"  said  Phil.  "  We  only  want  tc 
warm  ourselves  by  the  fire." 

"  I  don't  want  you  here,"  said  the  grocer,  irritably. 


"Mr.  Perkins,"  said  the  gentleman,  sharply, 
"have  you  no  humanity?  What  harm  can  it  do 
you  to  let  these  poor  boys  get  warm  "by  your  fire  ? 
It  will  cost  you  nothing ;  it  will  not  diminish  your 
personal  comfort ;  yet  you  drive  them  out  into  the 
cold." 

The  grocer  began  to  perceive  that  he  was  on  the 
wrong  tack.  The  gentleman  who  addressed  him  was 


80  PHIL,  THE  FIDDLER;  OR, 

a  regular  and  profitable  customer,  and  he  did  not 
like  to  incur  his  ill-will. 

"  They  can  stay,  Mr.  Pomeroy,"  he  said,  with  an 
ill  grace,  "  since  you  ask  it." 

"  I  do  not  ask  it.  I  will  not  accept,  as  a  personal 
favor,  what  you  should  have  granted  from  a  motive 
of  humanitj7,  more  especially  as,  after  this  exhibition 
of  your  spirit,  I  shall  not  trade  here  any  longer." 

By  this  time,  the  grocer  perceived  that  he  had 
made  a  great  mistake. 

"  I  hope  you  will  reconsider  that,  Mr.  Pomeroy," 
he  said,  abjectly.  "  The  fact  is,  I  had  no  objection 
to  the  boys  warming  themselves,  but  they  are  mostly 
thieves,  and  I  could  not  keep  my  C}'es  on  them  all  the 
time." 

"I  think  you  are  mistaken.  They  don't  look  like 
thieves.  Did  you  ever  have  anything  stolen  by  one 
of  this  class  of  boys  ?  " 

"Not  that  I  know  of,"  said  the  grocer,  hesitat 
ingly  ;  "  but  it  is  likely  they  would  steal  if  they  got 
a  chance." 

"  We  have  no  right  to  say  that  of  any  one  without 
good  cause." 


THE    YOUNG  STREET  MUSICIAN.  81 

"  We  never  steal,"  said  Phil,  indignantly ;  for  he 
had  understood  what  was  said. 

"  Of  course  he  says  so,"  sneered  the  grocer. 
"  Come  and  warm  yourselves,  if  you  want  to." 

The  boys  accepted  this  grudging  invitation,  and 
drew  near  the  stove.  They  spread  out  their  hands, 
and  returning  warmth  proved  very  grateful  to  them. 

"Have  you  been  out  long?"  asked  the  gentleman 
who  had  interceded  in  their  behalf,  also  drawing  near 
the  stove. 

"  Since  eight,  signore." 

" Do  you  live  in  Brooklyn?" 

"  No  ;  in  New  York." 

"  And  do  you  go  out  every  day  ?  " 

"  Si,  signore." 

"  How  long  since  you  came  from  Italy  ?  " 

"  A  year." 

"  Would  you  like  to  go  back?  " 

"  He  would,"  said  Phil,  pointing  to  his  companion. 
"  I  would  like  to  stay  here,  if  I  had  a  good  home." 

"  What  kind  of  a  home  have  you?  With  whom  do 
you  live  ?  " 

"With  the  padrone." 


82  PHIL,  THE  FIDDLER;  GJZ, 

"I  suppose  that  means  your  guardian?" 

"  Yes,  sir,"  answered  Phil. 

"  Is  he  kind  to  you?" 

"  lie  beats  us  if  we  do  not  bring  home  enough 
money." 

"Your  lot  is  a  hard  one.  What  makes  you  stay 
with  him?  Don't  the  boys  ever  run  away?" 

"  Sometimes." 

"  "What  does  the  padrone  do  in  that  case?" 

"  He  tries  to  find  them." 

"  And  if  he  does,  —  what  then?" 

u  He  beats  them  for  a  long  time." 


"Evidently  your  padrone  is  a  brute.  Why  don't 
you  complain  to  the  police  ?  " 

Phil  shrugged  his  shoulders,  and  did  not  answer. 
He  evidently  thought  the  suggestion  an  impracticable 
one.  These  boys  are  wont  to  regard  the  padrone  as 
above  all  law.  His  power  seems  to  them  absolute, 
and  they  never  dream  of  any  interference.  And, 
indeed,  there  is  some  reason  for  their  cherishing  this 
opinion.  However  brutal  his  treatment,  I  know  of 
no  case  where  the  law  has  stepped  in  to  rescue  the 
young  victim.  This  is  partly,  no  doubt,  because  the 


THE    YOUNG   STREET  MUSICIAN.  83 

bo}'S,  few  of  whom  can  speak  the  English  language, 
do  not  know  their  rights,  and  seldom  complain  to 
outsiders,  never  to  the  authorities.  Probably,  in 
some  cases,  the  treatment  is  less  brutal  than  I  have 
depicted  ;  but  from  the  best  information  I  can  obtain 
from  trustworthy  sources,  I  fear  that  the  reality,  if 
anything,  exceeds  the  picture  I  have  drawn. 

"  I  think  I  should  enjoy  giving  your  padrone  a 
horsewhipping,"  said  the  gentleman,  impetuously. 
"  Can  such  things  be  permitted  in  the  nineteenth 
century?" 

"  I  have  no  doubt  the  little  rascals  deserve  all 
they  get,"  said  the  grocer,  who  would  probably  have 
found  in  the  Italian  padrone  a  congenial  spirit. 

Mr.  Pomeroy  deigned  no  repty  to  this  remark. 

"Well,  boys,"  he  said,  consulting  his  watch,  UI 
must  leave  you.  Here  are  twenty- five  cents  for  each 
of  you.  I  have  one  piece  of  advice  for  you.  If 
your  padrone  beats  you  badly,  run  away  from  him 
I  would  if  I  were  in  }~our  place." 

"  Addio,  signore,"  said  the  two  boys. 

"  I  suppose  that  means  '  good-by.     Well,  good-by 
and  better  luck." 


84  PHIL*  THE  FIDDLER;  on, 


CHAPTER    IX. 

PIETRO,    THE    SPY. 

THOUGH  from  notions  of  policy  the  grocer  bad 
permitted  the  two  boys  to  warm  themselves  by  his 
fire,  he  felt  only  the  more  incensed  against  them  on 
this  account,  and  when  Mr.  Pomeroy  had  gone  de 
termined  to  get  rid  of  them. 

"  Haven't  you  got  warm  yet?"  he  asked.  "  I  can't 
have  you  in  my  way  all  day." 

"  We  will  go,"  said  Phil.     "  Come,  Giacomo." 

lie  did  not  thank  the  grocer,  knowing  how  grudg 
ingly  permission  had  been  given. 

So  they  went  out  again  into  the  chill  air,  but  they 
had  got  thoroughly  warmed,  and  were  better  able  to 
bear  it. 

"  Where  shall  we  go,  Filippo  ?  "  asked  the  younger 
boy. 

"  We  will  o;o  back  to  New  York.  It  is  not  BO 
cold  there." 


THE    YOUNG   STREET  MUSICIAN.  85 

Giacomo  unhesitatingly  assented  to  whatever  Phil 
proposed.  lie  was  not  self-reliant,  like  our  hero,  but 
always  liked  to  have  some  one  to  lean  upon. 

They  made  their  way  back  to  Fulton  Ferry  in  a 
leisurely  manner,  stopping  here  and  there  to  pla}r ; 
but  it  was  a  bad  day  for  business.  The  cold  was 
such  that  no  one  stopped  to  give  them  anything  ex 
cept  one  young  man  dropped  ten  cents  in  Phil's 
hand  as  he  hurried  b}*. 

At  length  they  reached  the  ferry.  The  passengers 
were  not  so  many  in  number  as  usual.  The  cabin 
was  so  warm  and  comfortable  that  they  remained  on 
board  for  two  or  three  trips,  playing  each  time.  In 
this  way  they  obtained  about  thirty  cents  more. 
They  would  have  remained  longer,  but  that  one  of 
the  deck  hands  asked,  u  How  many  times  are  you 
going  across  for  two  cents?"  and  this  made  them 
think  it  prudent  to  go. 

When  six  o'clock  came  Giacomo  asked  Phil,  who 
acted  as  treasurer,  how  much  money  they  had. 

"  Two  dollars,"  answered  Phil. 

"  That  is  only  one  dollar  for  each." 

"  Yes,  Giacomo." 


86  PHIL,  THE  FIDDLER;  on, 

"  Then  we  shall  be  beaten,"  said  the  little  boy,  with 
a  sigh. 

"  I  am  afraid  so." 

"  And  get  no  supper." 

"Yes,"  said  Phil;  "unless,"  he  ^dded,  "we  get 
some  supper  now." 

"With  tliis  money?"  asked  Giacomo.  startled  at 
the  boldness  of  the  suggestion. 

"  Yes  ;  we  shall  be  beaten  at  any  rate.  It  will  be 
no  worse  for  us  if  we  get  some  supper/1 

"  Will  you  buy  some  bread?  " 

"  No,"  said  Phil,  daringly.  "  I  am  going  to  buy 
some  meat." 

"  What  will  the  padrone  say?  " 

"  I  shall  not  tell  the  padrone." 

"  Do  you  think  he  will  find  out?" 

"No.  Besides,  we  ought  to  have  some  supper 
after  walking  about  all  day." 

Evidently  Phil  had  begun  to  think,  and  the  es 
sential  injustice  of  laboring  without  proper  compensa 
tion  had  impressed  his  youthful  mind.  Giacomo  was 
more  timid.  lie  had  not  advanced  as  far  as  Phil,  nor 
was  he  as  daring.  But  I  have  already  said  that  he 


THE    YOUNG  STREET  MUSICIAN".  87 

was  guided  in  a  great  measure  by  Phil,  and  so  it 
proved  in  this  case.  Phil,  having  made  up  his  mind, 
set  about  carrying  his  plan  into  execution.  Only  a 
block  distant  was  a  cheap  restaurant,  where  plates  of 
meat  were  supplied  to  a  poor  class  of  customers  at 
ten  cents  per  plate. 

"  Let  us  go  in  here,"  he  said. 

Giacomo  followed,  but  not  without  trepidation. 
He  knew  that  what  they  were  about  to  do  would  be  a 
heinous  crime  in  the  eyes  of  the  padrone.  Even  Phil 
had  never  ventured  upon  such  direct  rebellion  before. 
But  Mr.  Pomeroy's  suggestion  that  he  should  run 
away  was  beginning  to  bear  fruit  in  his  mind.  He 
had  not  come  to  that  yet,  but  he  might.  Why  should 

he  not  earn  mone}^  for  his  own  benefit,  as  well  as  for 

^L- 
the  padrone?     True,  he  was  bound  to  the  latter  by  a 

legal  contract  entered  into  by  his  father,  but  Phil, 
without  knowing  much  about  law,  had  an  indistinct 
idea  that  the  contract  was  a  one-sided  one,  and  was 
wholly  for  the  advantage  of  the  other  party.  The 
tyrant  is  always  in  danger  of  losing  his  hold  upon 
the  victim  when  the  latter  begins  to  think. 


88  PHIL,  THE  FIDDLER;  ox, 

They  entered  the  restaurant,  and  sat  down  at  a 
table. 

The  tables  were  greasy.  The  floor  was  strewn 
with  sawdust.  The  waiters  were  clirtj7,  and  the  en 
tire  establishment  was  neither  neat  nor  inviting. 
But  it  was  democratic.  No  customers  were  sent 
away  because  they  were  nnfashionably  attired.  The 
only  requisite  was,  money  enough  to  defray  their 
bills.  Nevertheless  Giacomo  felt  a  little  in  awe 
even  of  the  dirty  waiters.  His  frugal  meals  were 
usually  bought  at  the  baker's  shop,  and  eaten  stand 
ing  in  the  street.  Sitting  down  at  a  table,  even 
though  it  were  greasy,  seemed  a  degree  of  luxury  to 
which  he  was  not  entitled.  But  Phil  more  easily 
adapted  himself  to  circumstances.  He  knew  that  he 
had  as  much  right  there  as  any  other  customer. 

Presently  a  waiter  presented  himself. 

"  Have  you  ordered?  "  he  asked. 

"  Givo  me  some  roast  beef,"  said  Phil.  "  What 
wil.  you  have,  Giacomo?" 

"The  same  as  you,  Filippo,"  said  Giacomo,  in 
Italian. 


THE    TOUXO   STREET  MUSICIAN".  89 

"  What's  that?"  asked  the  waiter,  thinking  he  had 
named  some  dish. 

"  lie  will  have  some  roast  beef,  too.  Will  you  havo 
some  coffee,  Giacomo?" 

"If  you  have  it,"  answered  the  smaller  boy, 
doubtfully. 

So  Phil  gave  the  double  order,  and  very  soon  the 
coffee  and  meat  were  placed  before  them.  I  suspect 
that  few  of  my  readers  would  have  regarded  those 
articles  with  any  relish.  One  need  not  be  fastidious 
to  find  fault  with  the  dark-hued  beverage,  which  was 
only  a  poor  imitation  of  coffee,  and  the  dark  frag 
ments  of  meat,  which  might  have  been  horse-flesh  so 
far  as  appearance  went.  But  to  the  two  Italian  boys 
it  was  indeed  a  feast.  The  coffoe,  which  was  hot, 
warmed  their  stomachs,  and  seemed  to  them  like 
nectar,  while  the  meat  was  as  palatable  as  the  epicure 
finds  his  choicest  dishes.  While  eating,  even  Giacomo 
forgot  that  he  was  engaged  in  something  unlawful, 
and  his  face  was  lighted  up  with  rare  satisfaction. 

"  It  is  good,"  said  Phil,  bricity,  as  he  laid  down  his 
knife  Mid  fork,  after  disposing  of  the  las*  morsel  upon 
his  plate. 


90  p/77/v,  THE  FIDDLER;  ox, 

"  I  wish  I  could  have  such  a  supper  every  day," 
said  Giacomo. 

"  I  will  when  I  am  a  man,"  said  Phil. 

"  I  don't  think  I  shall  ever  be  a  man,"  said 
Giacomo,  shaking  his  head. 

"TVliy  not?"  asked  Phil,  regarding  him  with  sur 
prise. 

"  I  do  not  think  I  shall  live." 

"  What  makes  you  think  so,  Giacomo?"  said  Phil, 
startled. 

"  I  am  not  strong,  Filippo,"  said  the  little  boy.  "  1 
think  I  get  weaker  every  day.  I  long  so  much  to  go 
back  to  Itaty.  If  I  could  sec  my  mother  once  more, 
I  would  be  willing  to  die  then." 

"  You  must  not  think  of  such  things,  Giacomo," 
said  Phil,  who,  like  most  healthy  boys,  did  not  like  to 
think  of  death.  "You  will  get  strong  when  summer 
comes.  The  weather  is  bad  now." 

"  I  don't  think  I  shall,  Filippo.  Do  }TOU  remem]>ei 
Matteo?" 

"  Yes,  I  remember  him." 

Matteo  was  a  comrade  who  had   died  six 


THE    YOUNG   STREET  MUSICIAN.  91 

before.  He  was  a  young  boy,  about  the  size  and  age 
of  Giacomo. 

"  I  dreamed  of  him  last  niglit,  Filippo.  He  held 
out  bis  band  to  me." 

"Well?" 

"  I  tbink  I  am  going  to  die,  like  bim." 


"Don't  be  so  foolisb,  Giacomo,"  said  Pbil.  But, 
tbougb  be  said  this,  even  be  was  startled  by  what 
Giacomo  bad  told  him.  lie  was  ignorant,  and  the 
ignorant  are  prone  to  superstition ;  so  be  felt  un 
comfortable,  but  did  not  like  to  acknowledge  it. 

"  You  must  not  think  of  this,  Giacomo,"  he  said 
•'  You  will  be  En  old  man  some  day." 

"  That's  for  you,  Filippo.  It  isn't  for  me,"  said  the 
little  boy. 

"  Come,  let  us  go,"  said  Pbil,  desirous  of  dropping 
the  subject. 

He  went  up  to  the  desk,  and  paid  for  both,  the  sum 
of  thirty  cents. 

"  Now,  come,"  be  said. 

Giacomo  followed  bim  out,  and  they  turned  down  the 
street,  feeling  refreshed  by  the  supper  the}'  had  eaten. 
But  unfortunately  they  had  been  observed.  As  they 


92  P77/L,  THE  FIDDLER;  OK, 

left  the  restaurant,  they  attracted  the  attention  of 
Pietro,  whom  chance  had  brought  thither  at  an  unfortu 
nate  time.  His  sinister  face  lighted  up  with  joy  as  he 
realized  the  discover}'  he  had  made.  But  he  wished 
to  make  sure  that  it  was  as  he  supposed.  They  might 
have  gone  in  only  to  play  and  sing. 

He  crossed  the  street,  unobserved  by  Phil  and 
Giacomo,  and  entered  the  restaurant. 

"  Were  my  two  brothers  here? "  he  asked,  assuming 
the  relationship. 

"  Two  boys  with  fiddles  ?  " 

"  Yes  ;  they  just  went  out." 

"  Did  they  get  supper  ?  " 

"  Yes  ;  they  had  some  roast  beef  and  coffee." 

"  Thank  you,"  said  Pietro,  and  he  loft  the  restau 
rant  with  his  suspicions  confirmed. 

"I  shall  tell  the  pairone,"  he  said  <:Q  himself. 
"They  will  feel  the  s'.icl:  tonight." 


THE    YOUNG   STREET  MUSICIAN.  93 


CHAPTER    X. 

FRENCH'S  HOTEL. 

PIETRO  Lad  one  of  those  mean  and  malignant 
natures  that  are  best  pleased  when  they  are  instru 
mental  in  bringing  others  into  trouble.  He  looked 
forward  to  becoming  a  padrone  himself  some  day, 
and  seemed  admirably  fitted  by  nature  to  exercise  the 
inhuman  office.  lie  lost  no  time,  on  his  return,  in 
making  known  to  his  uncle  what  he  had  learned. 

For  the  boys  to  appropriate  to  their  own  use 
money  which  had  been  received  for  their  services 
was,  in  the  eyes  of  the  padrone,  a  crime  of  the  dark 
est  shade.  In  fact,  if  the  example  were  generally 
followed,  it  would  have  made  a  large  diminution  of 
his  income,  though  the  bo}Ts  might  have  been  bene 
fited.  He  listened  to  Pictro  with  an  ominous  scowl, 
and  decided  to  inflict  condign  punishment  upon  the 
young  offenders . 

Meanwhile   Phil  and  Giacomo  resumed  their  wan- 


94  r.BIL,    THE   FIDDLE  Jt;    Ofl, 

derings.  The}r  no  longer  hoped  to  make  up  the 
large  difference  between  what  they  had,  and  the  sura 
they  were  expected,  by  the  padrone,  to  bring.  As 
the  evening  advanced  the  cold  increased,  and  pene 
trated  through  their  thin  clothing,  chilling  them 
through  and  through.  Giacomo  felt  it  the  most. 
By  and  by  he  began  to  sob  with  the  cold  and  fatigue. 

"  What  is  the  matter,  Giacomo?"  asked  Phil. 

"  I  feel  so  cold,  Filippo,  —  so  cold  and  tired.  I 
wish  I  could  rest." 

The  boys  were  in  Printing  House  Square,  near  the 
spot  where  now  stands  the  Franklin  statue. 

"  If  you  want  to  rest,  Giacomo,"  said  Phil,  pity- 
ingry,  "  we  will  go  into  French's  Hotel  a  little 
while." 

"  I  should  like  to." 

They  entered  the  hotel,  and  sat  down  near  the 
heater.  The  grateful  warmth  diffused  itself  through 
their  frames,  and  Giacomo  sank  back  in  his  seat  with 
a  sigh  of  relief. 

"  Do  you  feel  better,  Giacomo?"  asked  his  com 
rade. 


THE    YOUNG   STREET  MUSICIAN.  95 

"  Yes,  Filipf  o ;  I  wish  I  could  stay  here  till  it  is 
time  to  go  home." 

"  We  will,  then.  We  shall  get  no  more  money 
outside." 

uThe  padrone — " 

ct  Will  beat  us  at  any  rate.  It  will  be  no  worse  for 
us.  Besides,  they  may  ask  us  to  play  here." 

"  I  can  play  no  more  to-night,  Filippo,  I  am  so 
tired." 

Phil  knew  very  little  of  sickness,  or  he  might  have 
seen  that  Giacomo  was  going  to  be  ill.  Exposure, 
fatigue,  and  privation  had  been  too  much  for  his 
strength.  lie  had  never  been  robust,  and  he  had 
been  subjected  to  trials  that  would  have  proved  hard 
for  one  much  stronger  to  bear. 

When  he  had  once  determined  to  remain  in  the 
comfortable  hotel,  Phil  leaned  back  in  his  chair  also, 
and  decided  to  enjoy  all  the  comfort  attainable. 
What  though  there  was  a  beating  in  prospect?  Ho 
had  before  him  two  or  three  hours  of  rest  and  relief 
from  the  outside  cold.  He  was  something  of  a  phi 
losopher,  and  chose  not  to  let  future  evil  interfere 
with  present  good, 


96  PHIL,  THE  FIDDLER;  OR, 

Near  the  two  boys  sat  two  young  men,  —  mer 
chants  from  the  interior  of  New  York  State,  who 
were  making  a  business  visit  to  the  metropolis. 

"  Well,  Gardner,"  said  the  first,  "  where  shall  we 
go  to-night?" 

"Why  need  we  go  anywhere?  " 

"  I  thought  you  might  like  to  go  to  some  place  of 
amusement." 

"  So  I  would  if  the  weather  were  less  inclement. 
The  most  comfortable  place  is  by  the  fire." 

"  You  are  right  as  to  that,  but  the  evening  will 
be  long  and  stupid." 

"  Oh,  we  can  worry  it  through.  Here,  for  instance, 
are  two  young  musicians,"  indicating  the  little 
fiddlers.  "Suppose  we  get  a  tune  out  of  them?" 

"Agreed.  Here,  boy,  can  you  play  on  that 
fiddle?" 

"  Yes,"  said  Phil. 

""Well,  give  us  a  tune,  then.  Is  that  your 
brother?" 

"  No,  he  is  my  comrade." 

"  lie  can  play  too." 

u  Will  you  play,  Giacomo  ?  " 


THE    YOUNG   STREET  MUSICIAN.  97 

The  younger  boy  roused  himself.  The  two  stood 
ap,  and  played  two  or  three  tunes  successively.  A 
group  of  loungers  gathered  around  them,  and  listened 
approvingly.  When  they  had  finished,  Phil  took  off 
his  hat  and  went  the  rounds.  Some  gave,  the  two 
first  mentioned  contributing  most  liberally.  The 
whole  sum  collected  was  about  fifty  cents. 

Phil  and  Giacomo  now  resumed  their  seats.  They 
felt  now  that  they  were  entitled  to  rest  for  the  re 
mainder  of  the  evening,  since  they  had  gained  quite  as 
much  as  they  would  have  been  likely  to  earn  in  wander 
ing  about  the  streets.  The  group  that  had  gathered 
about  them  dispersed,  and  they  ceased  to  be  objects 
of  attention.  Fatigue  and  the  warmth  of  the  room 
gradually  affected  Giacomo  until  he  leaned  back  and 
fell  asleep. 

"I  won't  wake  him  till  it's  time  to  go  back," 
thought  Phil. 

So  Giacomo  slept  on,  despite  the  noises  in  the 
street  outside,  and  the  confusion  incident  to  every 
large  hotel.  As  he  sat  asleep,  he  attracted  the  at 
tention  of  a  stout  gentleman,  who  was  passing,  lead 
ing  by  the  hand  a  boy  of  ten. 


98  PHIL,    THE  FIDDLE Ji;    OJ*, 

"  Is  that  your  brother?  "  he  asked  of  Phil. 

'*  No,  signore  ;  it  is  my  comrade." 

"  So  you  go  about  together?  " 

"  Yes,  sir,"  answered  Phil,  bethinking  himself  to 
use  English  instead  of  Italian. 

"  He  seems  tired." 

"  Yes  ;  he  is  not  so  strong  as  I  am." 

**  Do  you  play  about  the  streets  all  day  ?  " 

44  Yes,  sir." 

"How  would  you  like  that,  Henry?"  asked  hia 
father  to  the  boy  at  his  side. 

"  I  should  like  to  play  about  the  streets  all  day," 
said  Henry,  roguishly,  misinterpreting  the  word  play. 

"  I  think  you  would  get  tired  of  it.  What  is  your 
name,  my  boy  ?  " 

"  Filippo." 

"  And  what  is  the  name  of  your  friend  f 

"  Giacomo." 

"  Did  you  never  go  to  school  ?  " 

Phil  shook  his  hea«  1. 

"Would  you  like  to?" 

"Yes,  sir." 


THE    YOUNG   STREET  MUSICIAN.  99 

"You  would  like  it  better  than  wandering  about 
the  streets  all  clay  ?  " 

"  Yes,  sir." 

"  Why  do  you  not  ask  }*our  father  to  send  you  to 
school ? " 

"  My  father  is  in  Italy." 

"And  his  father,  also?" 

"  Si,  signore,"  answered  Phil,  relapsing  into 
Italian. 

"What  do  you  think  of  that,  Henry?"  asked  the 
gentleman.  "How  should  you  like  to  leave  me,  and 
go  to  some  Italian  city  to  roam  about  all  day,  play~ 
ing  on  the  violin  ?  " 

"  I  think  I  would  rather  go  to  school." 

"  I  think  you  would." 

"Are  you  often  out  so  late,  Filippo?  I  think  that 
is  the  name  you  gave  me." 

Phil  shrugged  his  shoulders. 

"  Always,"  he  answered. 

"  At  what  time  do  you  go  home?  " 

"  At  eleven." 

"  It  is  too  late  for  a  boy  of  your  age  to  sit  up, 
Why  do  you  not  go  home  sooner?" 


100  PHIL,  THE  FIDDLER;  OR, 

"  The  padrone  would  beat  me." 
"Who  is  the  padrone?" 

"  The  man  who  brought  me  from  Italy." 

"  Poor  boys ! "  said  the  gentleman,  compassion 
ately.  "  Yours  is  a  hard  life.  I  hope  some  time 
you  will  be  in  a  better  position." 

Phil  fixed  Iris  dark  eyes  upon  the  stranger,  grateful 
for  his  words  of  sympathy. 

"  Thank  you,"  he  said. 

"  Good-night,"  said  the  stranger,  kindly. 

"Good-night,  signorc." 

An  hour  passed.  The  City  Hall  clock  near  by 
struck  cloven.  The  time  had  come  for  returning  to 
their  mercenary  guardian.  Phil  shook  the  sleeping 
form  of  Giaeomo.  The  little  boy  stirred  in  his  sleep, 
and  murmured  "M;idrc."  He  had  been  dreaming  of 
his  mother  and  his  f.ir-off  Italian  home.  lie  woke  to 
the  harsh  realities  of  life,  four  thousand  miles  away 
from  that  mother  and  home. 

"Have  I  slept,  Filippo?"  he  asked,  rubbing  his 
eyes,  and  looking  about  him  in  momentary  bewilder 
ment. 


THE    YOUNG   STREET  MUSICIAN.  ,1Q1 

"Yes,  Giacomo.  You  have  slept  for  two  hours 
and  more.  It  is  eleven  o'clock." 

"  Then  we  must  go  back." 

"  Yes  ;  take  your  violin,  and  we  will  go." 

They  passed  out  into  the  cold  street,  which  seemed 
yet  colder  by  contrast  with  the  warm  hotel  they  had 
just  left,  and,  crossing  to  the  sidewalk  that  skirts  the 
park,  walked  up  Centre  Street. 

Giacomo  was  seized  with  a  fit  of  trembling.  His 
teeth  chattered  with  the  cold.  A  fever  was  ap 
proaching,  although  neither  he  nor  his  companion 
knew  it. 

"Are  you  cold,  Giacomo?"  asked  Phil,  noticing 
how  he  trembled. 

"  I  am  very  cold.     I  feel  sick,  Filippo." 

"  You  will  feel  better  to-morrow,"  said  Phil ;  but 
the  thought  of  the  beating  which  his  little  comrade 
was  sure  to  receive  saddened  him  more  than  the 
prospect  of  being  treated  in  the  same  way  himself. 

They  kept  on  their  way,  past  the  Tombs  with  its 
gloomy  entrance,  through  the  ill-lighted  street, 
scarcely  noticed  by  the  policeman  whom  they  passed, 
—  for  he  was  accustomed  to  see  boys  of  their  class 


102,  PKIL,  THE  FIDDLER;  o/?, 

out  late  at  night,  —  until  at  last  they  reached  the 
dwelling  of  the  padrone,  who  was  waiting  thoir 
arrival  with  the  eagerness  of  a  bruta'  nature, 
tient  to  inflict  pain. 


THIS    YOUNG   STREET  MUSICIAN.  103 


CHAPTER    XI. 

HOW  THE  PADRONE  RECEIVED  THEM. 

PHIL  and  Giacomo  entered  the  lodging-house, 
wholly  unconscious  of  the  threatening  storm.  The 
padrone  scowled  at  them  as  they  entered  ;  but  that  was 
nothing  unusual.  Had  he  greeted  them  kindty,  they 
would  have  had  reason  to  be  surprised. 

"  Well,"  he  said  harshly,  "  how  much  do  you 
bring?" 

The  boys  produced  two  dollars  and  a  half,  which 
he  pocketed. 

"Is  this  all?"  he  asked. 

"  It  was  cold,"  said  Phil,  "  and  we  could  not  get 
more." 

The  padrone  listened  with  an  ominous  frown. 

"  Are  3rou  hungry  ?  "  he  asked.  "  Do  you  want  your 
supper  ? " 

Phil  was  puzzled  by  his  manner,  for  he  expected 
to  be  deprived  of  his  supper,  on  account  of  bringing 


104  rniL,  THE  FIDDLER;  as, 

less  money  than  usual.  Why  should  the  padrone  ask 
him  if  he  wanted  his  supper?  Though  he  was  not 
hungry,  he  thought  it  best  to  answer  in  the  affirma 
tive. 

"  What  would  you  like?"  asked  the  padrone. 

Again  Phil  was  puzzled,  for  the  suppers  supplied  by 
the  padrone  never  varied,  always  consisting  of  bread 
and  cheese. 

"Perhaps,"  continued  the  padrone,  meeting  no 
answer,  "  you  would  like  some  coffee  and  roast  beef." 

All  was  clear  now.  Phil  understood  that  he 
had  been  seen  going  in  or  out  of  the  restaurant, 
though  ho  could  not  tell  by  whom.  He  knew  well 
enough  what  to  expect,  bat  a  chivalrous  feeling  of 
friendship  lod  him  to  try  to  shield  his  young  compan 
ion,  even  :if  tho  risk  of  a  more  severe  punishment  to 
be  inflicted  upon  himself. 


"It  was  my  fault,"  he  said,  manfully.  "Giacomo 
would  not  have  gone  In  but  for  me." 

"  Wicked,  ungrateful  boy  !  "  exclaimed  the  padrone, 
wrathfully.  "  It  was  m}^  money  that  you  spent.  You 
are  a  thief ! " 

Phil  felt  that  this  was  a  hard  word,  which  he  did  not 


THE    YOUNG    STREET  MUSICIAN:  105 

deserve.  The  money  was  earned  by  himself,  though 
claimed  by  the  padrone.  But  he  did  not  venture  to 
say  this.  It  would  have  been  revolutionary.  He 
thought  it  prudent  to  be  silent. 

"Why  do  you  say  nothing?"  exclaimed  the 
padrone,  stamping  his  foot.  "  Why  did  you  spend 
my  money  ?  " 

"  I  was  hungry.1' 

"So  you  must  live  like  a  nobleman !  Our  supper 
is  not  good  enough  for  you.  How  much  did  you 
spend?" 

"  Thirty  cents." 

"For  each?" 

"  No,  signore,  for  both." 

"  Then  you  shall  have  each  fifteen  blows,  one  for 
each  penny.  I  will  teach  you  to  be  a  thief.  Pietro, 
the  stick  !  Now,  strip  !  " 

"  Padrone,"  said  Phil,  generously,  "  let  me  have 
all  the  blows.  It  was  my  fault ;  Giacomo  only  went 
because  I  asked  him." 

If  the  padrone  had  had  a  heart,  this  generous 
request  would  have  touched  it ;  but  he  was  not 
troubled  in  that  way. 


106  PHIL,  THE  FIDDLER;  o??, 

"  He  must  be  whipped  too,"  he  said.  "  He  should 
not  have  gone  with  you." 

"He  is  sick,  padrone,"  persisted  Phil.  "Excuse 
him  till  he  is  better." 

u  Not  a  word  more,"  roared  the  padrone,  irritated 
at  his  persistence.  "  If  he  is  sick,  it  is  because  he  has 
eaten  too  much,"  he  added,  with  a  sneer.  "Pietro,  my 
stick ! " 

The  two  boys  began  to  strip  mechanically,  knowing 
that  there  was  no  appeal.  Phil  stood  bare  to  the  waist. 
The  padrone  seized  the  stick,  and  began  to  belabor 
him.  Phil's  brown  face  showed  by  its  contortions  the 
pain  he  suffered,  but  he  was  too  proud  to  cry  out. 
When  the  punishment  was  finished,  his  back  was 
streaked  writh  red,  and  looked  maimed  and  bruised. 

"  Put  on  your  shirt !  "  commanded  the  tyrant. 

Phil  drew  it  on  over  his  bleeding  back,  and  resumed 
his  place  among  his  comrades. 

"  Now  !  "  said  the  padrone,  beckoning  to  Giaoomo. 

The  little  boy  approached,  shivering,  not  so  much 
with  cold,  as  with  the  fever  that  had  already  begun 
to  prey  upon  him. 

Phil  turned  pale  and  sick,  as  he  looked  at  the  pa 


THE    YOUNG   STREET  MUSICIAN.  107 

drone,  preparing  to  inflict  punishment.  lie  would 
gladly  have  left  the  room,  but  he  knew  that  it  would 
not  be  permitted. 

The  first  blow  descended  heavily  upon  the  shrink 
ing  form  of  ithe  little  victim.  It  was  followed  by  a 
shriek  of  pain  and  terror. 

"What  are  you  howling  at?"  muttered  the  pa 
drone  between  his  teeth.  "  I  will  whip  you  the 
harder." 


Giacomo  would  have  been  less  able  to  bear  the 
cruel  punishment  than  Phil  if  he  had  been  well,  but 
being  sick,  it  was  all  the  more  terrible  to  him.  The 
second  blow  likewise  was  followed  by  a  shriek  of 
anguish.  Phil  looked  on  with  pale  face,  set  teeth, 
and  blazing  C}'es,  as  he  saw  the  barbarous  punishment 
of  his  comrade.  lie  felt  that  he  hated  the  padrone 
with  a  fierce  hatred.  Had  his  strength  been  equal  to 
the  attempt,  he  would  have  flung  himself  upon  the 
padrone.  As  it  was,  he  looked  at  his  comrades,  half 
wishing  that  they  would  combine  with  him  against 
their  joint  oppressor.  But  there  was  no  hope  of  that. 
Some  congratulated  themselves  that  they  were  not  in 
Giacomo's  place  ;  others  looked  upon  his  punishment 


108  p/7/z,  THE  FIDDLER;  OK, 

as  a  matter  of  course.     There  was  no  dream  of  inter 
ference,  save  in  the  mind  of  Phil. 

The  punishment  continued  amid  the  groans  and 
prayers  for  mercy  of  the  little  sufferer.  But  at  the 
eighth  stroke  his  pain  and  terror  reached  a  climax, 
and  nature  succumbed.  lie  sank  on  the  floor,  faint 
ing.  The  padrone  thought  at  first  it  was  a  pretence, 
and  was  about  to  repeat  the  strokes,  when  a  look  at  the 
pallid,  colorless  face  of  the  little  sufferer  alarmed  him. 
It  did  not  excite  his  compassion,  but  kindled  the 
fear  that  the  boy  might  be  dying,  in  which  case  the 
police  might  interfere,  and  give  him  trouble ;  there 
fore  he  desisted,  but  unwillingly. 


"  lie  is  sick,"  said  Phil,  starting  forward. 

"  lie  is  no  more  sick  than  I  am,"  scowled  the 
padrone.  "  Pietro,  some  water  !  " 

Pietro  brought  a  glass  of  water,  which  the  padrone 
threw  in  the  face  of  the  fallen  bo}^.  The  shock 
brought  him  partially  to.  lie  opened  his  eyes,  and 
looked  around  vacantly. 

"What  is  the  matter  with  you?"  demanded  the 
padrone,  harshly. 

"  Where  am  I?"  asked  Giacomo,  bewildered.    But, 


THE    YOUXG   STREET  MUSICIAN.  109 

as  he  asked  this  question,  his  eyes  met  the  dark  look 
of  his  tyrant,  and  he  clasped  his  hands  in  terror. 

"  Do  not  beat  ine  !  "  he  pleaded.     "  I  feel  sick.5* 

"  He  is  only  shamming,"  said  Pietro,  who  was 
worthy  to  be  the  servant  and  nephew  of  such  a 
master.  But  the  padrone  thought  it  would  not  be 
prudent  to  continue  the  punishment. 

"  Help  him  put  on  his  clothes,  Pietro,"  he  said.  "  1 
will  let  you  off  this  time,  little  rascal,  but  take  heed 
that  you  never  again  steal  my  money." 

Giacomo  was  permitted  to  seek  his  uncomfortable 
bed.  His  back  was  so  sore  with  the  beating  he  had 
received,  that  he  was  compelled  to  lie  on  his  side. 
During  the  night  the  feverish  symptoms  increased, 
and  before  morning  he  was  very  sick.  The  padrone 
was  forced  to  take  some  measures  for  his  recovery, 
not  from  motives  of  humanity,  but  because  Giacomo's 
death  would  cut  off  a  source  of  daily  revenue,  and 
this,  in  the  eyes  of  the  mercenary  padrone,  was  an  im 
portant  consideration. 


Phil  went  to  bed  in  silence.  Though  he  was  suffer 
ing  from  the  brutal  blows  he  had  received,  the 
thought  of  the  punishment  and  suffering  of  Giacomo 


110  PHIL,  THE  FIDDLER;  o#, 

affected  him  more  deeply  than  his  own.  As  I  have 
said,  the  two  boys  came  from  the  same  town  in 
southern  Italy.  They  had  known  each  other  almost 
from  infancy,  and  something  of  a  fraternal  feeling 
had  grown  up  between  them.  In  Phil's  case,  since 
he  was  the  stronger,  it  was  accompanied  by  the  feel 
ing  that  he  should  be  a  protector  to  the  younger  boy, 
who,  on  his  side,  looked  up  to  Phil  as  stronger  and 
wiser  than  himself.  Though  only  a  boy  of  twelve, 
what  had  happened  led  Phil  to  think  seriously  of 
his  position  and  prospects.  lie  did  not  know  for 
how  long  his  services  had  been  sold  to  the  padrone 
by  his  father,  but  he  felt  sure  that  the  letter  of  the 
contract  would  be  little  regarded  as  long  as  his  ser 
vices  were  found  profitable. 


What  hope,  then,  had  he  of  better  treatment  in  the 
future?  There  seemed  no  prospect  except  of  con 
tinued  oppression  and  long  days  of  hardship,  unless 
—  and  here  the  suggestion  of  Mr.  Pomeroy  occurred 
to  him  —  unless  he  ran  away.  He  had  known  of 
boys  doing  this  before.  Some  had  been  brought 
back,  and  of  course  were  punished  severely  for  their 
temerity,  but  others  had  escaped,  and  had  never  re» 


THS    YOUtfG   STREET  MUSICIAN.  Ill 

turned.  What  had  become  of  them  Phil  did  not 
know,  but  he  rightly  concluded  that  they  could  not 
be  any  worse  off  than  in  the  service  of  the  padrone. 
Thinking  of  all  this,  Phil  began  to  think  it  probable 
that  he,  too,  would  some  day  break  his  bonds,  and 
run  away.  He  did  not  fix  upon  any  time.  He  had  not 
got  as  far  as  this.  But  circumstances,  as  we  shall 
find  in  our  next  chapter,  hastened  his  determination, 
and  this,  though  he  knew  it  not,  was  the  last  night 
that  he  would  sleep  in  the  house  of  the  padione. 


112  pniL)  THE  FIDDLER; 


CHAPTER    XII. 

GIACOMO'S    PRESENTIMENTS. 

PHIL  woke  up  the  next  morning  feeling  lame  and 
sore.  His  back  bore  traces  of  the  flogging  he  had 
received  the  night  before.  As  his  eyes  opened,  they 
rested  upon  twenty  boys  lying  about  him,  and 
also  upon  the  dark,  unsightly  walls  of  the  shabby 
room,  and  the  prospect  before  him  served  to  depress 
even  his  hopeful  temperament.  But  he  was  not  per 
mitted  to  meditate  long.  Pietro  opened  the  door, 
and  called  out  in  harsh  tones  :  "  Get  up,  all  of  you, 
or  the  padrone  will  be  here  with  his  stick  !  " 

The  invitation  was  heard  and  obeyed.  The  boys 
got  up,  yawning,  and  rubbing  their  C3res,  having  a 
wholesome  dread  of  their  tyrant  and  his  stick,  which 
no  tenderness  of  heart  ever  made  him  reluctant  to 
use.  Their  toilet  did  not  require  long  to  make.  The 
padrone  was  quite  indifferent  whether  they  were 


THE    YOU\(J    STREET  MUSICIAN".  113 

clean  or  not,  and  offered  them  no  facilities  for  wash- 
in^. 

When  they  were  dressed,  they  were  supplied  with  i 
frugal  breakiast,  —  a  piece  of  bread  and  cheese  each  ; 
their  instruments  were  given  them,  and  they  were 
started  off  for  a  long  day  of  toil. 

Phil  looked  around  for  Giacomo,  who  had  slept  in 
a  different  room,  but  he  was  not  to  be  seen. 

"  Is  Giacomo  sick  this  morning,  Pietro?"  he  asked 
of  the  padrone's  nephew. 

"He  pretends  to  be  sick,  little  drone!"  said 
Pietro,  unfeelingly.  "If  I  were  the  padrone,  I 
would  let  him  taste  the  stick  again." 

Phil  felt  that  he  would  like  to  see  the  brutal 
speaker  suffering  the  punishment  he  wanted  inflicted 
on  him  ;  but  he  knew  Pietro's  power  and  malice  too 
well  to  give  utterance  to  the  wish.  A  longing  came 
to  him  to  see  Giacomo  before  he  went  out.  He 
might  have  had  a  secret  presentiment  of  what  was 
coming. 

"  Signor  Pietro,"  lie  said,  umay  I  see  Giacomo 
before  I  go  out  ?  " 

This   request    would    have   been    refused,   without 


114  p/7/z,  THE  FIDDLER;  OR, 

doubt,  but  that  Pietro  felt  flattered  at  being  ad 
dressed  as  signer,  to  which  his  years  did  not  yet 
entitle  him.  Phil  knew  this,  and  therefore  used  the 


"  What  do  you  want  to  see  him  for?  "  he  asked. 

"  I  want  to  ask  him  how  he  feels." 

"  Yes,  you  can  go  in.  Tell  him  he  must  get  up  to 
morrow.  The  padrone  will  not  let  him  spend  his 
time  in  idleness." 

So  Phil,  having  already  his  fiddle  under  his  arm, 
entered  the  room  where  Giacomo  lay.  The  other 
occupants  of  the  room  had  risen,  and  the  little  boy 
was  tying  on  a  hard  pallet  in  the  corner.  His  eyes 
lighted  up  with  joy  as  he  saw  Phil  enter. 

"  I  am  glad  it  is  you,  Filippo,"  he  said  ;  "  1 
thought  it  was  the  padrone,  come  to  make  me  get 
np." 

"  How  do  you  feel  this  morning,  Giacomo?  " 

"  I  do  not  feel  well,  Filippo.  My  back  is  sore, 
md  I  am  so  weak." 

His  eyes  were  very  bright  with  the  fever  that  had 
now  control,  and  his  cheeks  were  hot  an  3  flushed. 
Phil  put  his  hand  upon  them. 


THE    YOUNG    STREET  MUSICIAN.  115 

"Your  cheeks  are  very  hot,  Giacomo,"  he  =aid. 
14  You  are  going  to  be  sick." 

"  I  know  it,  Filippo,"  said  the  little  boy.  "  1  may 
be  very  sick." 

44  I  hope  not,  Giacorao." 

44  Lean  over,  Filippo,"  said  Giacomo.  "  I  want 
to  tell  you  something." 

Phil  leaned  over  until  his  ear  was  close  to  the 
mouth  of  his  little  comrade. 

44 1  think  I  am  going  to  die,  Filippo,"  whispered 
Giacomo. 

Phil  started  in  dismay. 

44  No,  no,  Giacomo,"  he  said  ;  4'  that  is  nonsense. 
You  will  live  a  great  many  years  " 

44 1  think  you  will,  Filippo.  You  are  strong.  But 
I  have  always  been  weak,  and  lately  I  am  tired  all 
the  time.  I  don't  care  to  live  —  very  much.  It  is 
hard  to  live  ; "  and  the  little  boy  sighed,  as  he  spoke. 

44  You  are  too  young  to  die,  Giacomo.  It  is  only 
because  you  are  sick  that  you  think  of  it.  You  will 
soon  be  better." 

4;  I  do  not  think  so,  Filippo.  I  should  like  to  live 
for  one  thins." 


116  PIIIL,    THE   FIDDLER,    OR, 

"What  is  that?"  asked  Phil,  gazing  with  strange 
wonder  at  the  patient,  sad  face  of  the  little  sufferer, 
who  seemed  so  ready  to  part  with  the  life,  which,  in 
spite  of  his  privations  and  hardships,  seemed  so 
bright  to  him. 

"  I  should  like  to  go  back  to  my  home  in  Italy, 
and  sec  my  mother  again  before  I  die.  She  loved 
me!" 

The  almost  unconscious  emphasis  which  he  laid  on 
the  word  "  she  "  showed  that  in  his  own  mind  he  was 
comparing  her  with  his  father,  who  had  sold  him  into 
such  cruel  slavery. 

"  If  you  live,  Giacomo,  you  will  go  back  and  see 
her  some  day." 

"  I  shall  never  see  her  again,  Filippo,"  said  the 
little  bo}7",  sadly.  "If  you  ever  go  back  to  Italy  — 
when  you  are  older  —  will  you  go  and  see  her,  and 
tell  her  that  —  that  I  thought  of  her  when  I  was 
sick,  and  wanted  to  see  her  ?  " 

"  Yes,  Giacomo,"  said  Phil,  affected  by  hi&  U  tie 
companion's  manner. 

"  Filippo !  "  called  Pietro,  in  harsh  tones. 

"  I  must  go,"  said  Phil,  starting  to  his  feet 


THE    YOUNO    STREET  MUSICIAN.  117 

"  Kiss  me  before  you  go,"  said  Giacomo. 

Phil  bent  over  and  kissed  the  feverish  lips  of  the 
little  boy,  and  then  hurried  out  of  the  room.  Ho 
never  saw  Giacomo  again  ;  and  this,  though  he  knew 
it  not,  was  his  last  farewell  to  his  little  comrade. 

So  JPhil  commenced  his  wanderings.  He  was  free 
in  one  way  —  he  could  go  where  he  pleased.  The 
padrone  did  not  care  where  he  picked  up  his  money, 
as  long  as  he  brought  home  a  satisfactory  amount. 
Phil  turned  to  go  up-town,  though  he  had  no  definite 
destination  in  view.  lie  missed  Giacomo  who  lately 
had  wandered  about  in  his  company,  and  felt  lonely 
without  him. 

"Poor  Giacomo!"  he  thought.  "  I  hope  he  will 
be  well  soon." 

"  Avast  there,  boy !  "  some  one  called.  "  Just 
come  to  anchor,  and  give  us  a  tune." 

Phil  looked  up  and  saw  two  sailors  bearing  down 
upon  him  (to  use  a  nautical  phrase)  with  arms 
locked,  and  evidently  with  more  liquor  on  board  than 
they  could  carry  steadily. 

"  Give  us  a  tune,  boy,  and  we'll  pay  you,"  said  the 
second. 


118  PHIL,  THE  FIDDLER;  on, 

Phil  had  met  such  customers  before,  and  knew 
what  would  please  them.  lie  began  playing  some 
lively  dancing  tunes,  with  so  much  effect  that  the 
sailors  essayed  to  dance  on  the  sidewalk,  much  to 
the  amusement  of  a  group  of  boys  who  collected 
around  them. 

"  Go  it,  blue  jacket !  Go  it,  boots  !  "  exclaimed 
the  boys,  designating  them  by  certain  prominent 
articles  of  dress. 

The  applause  appeared  to  stimulate  them  to 
further  efforts,  and  they  danced  and  jumped  high  in 
air,  to  the  hilarious  delight  of  their  juvenile  specta 
tors.  After  a  time  such  a  crowd  collected  that  the 
attention  of  a  passing  policeman  was  attracted. 

"What's  all  this  disturbance?"  he  demanded,  in 
tones  of  authority. 

"  We're  stretching  our  legs  a  little,  shipmate,"  said 
the  first  sailor. 

"Then  you'd  better  stretch  them  somewhere  else 
than  in  the  street." 

"  I  thought  this  was  a  free  country,"  hiccoughed 
the  second. 


THE    YOUNG    STREET  MUSICIAN.  119 

•'  You'll  find  it  isn't  if  I  get  hold  of  you,"  said  the 
officer. 

"Want  to  fight?"  demanded  the  second  sailor, 
belligerently. 

"  Boy,  stop  playing,"  said  the  policeman.  "I  don't 
want  to  arrest  these  men  unless  I  am  obliged  to  do 
it." 

Phil  stopped  playing,  and  this  put  a  stop  to  the 
dance.  Finding  there  was  no  more  to  be  seen,  the 
crowd  also  dispersed.  With  arms  again  interlocked, 
the  sailors  were  about  to  resume  their  walk,  forget 
ting  to  "  pay  the  piper."  But  Phil  was  not  at  all 
bashful  about  presenting  his  claims.  He  took  off  his 
cap,  and  going  up  to  the  jolly  pair  said,  "  I  want 
some  pennies." 

Sailors  are  free  with  their  money.  Parsimony  is 
not  one  of  their  vices.  Both  thrust  their  hands  into 
their  pockets,  and  each  drew  out  a  handful  of  scrip, 
which  they  put  into  Phil's  hands,  without  looking  to 
soe  how  much  it  might  be. 

"That's  al.  right,  boy,  isn't  it?"  inquired  the 
fir  si. 

"  All   right,"   answered   Phil,  wondering  at  their 


120  PHIL,  THE  FIDDLER;  o/?, 

munificence.  He  only  anticipated  a  few  pennies,  and 
here  looked  to  be  as  much  as  he  was  generally  able 
to  secure  in  a  day.  As  soon  as  he  got  a  good  chance 
he  counted  it  over,  and  found  four  half  dollars,  throe 
quarters,  and  four  tens,  —  in  all,  three  dollars  and 
fifteen  cents.  At  this  rate,  probably,  the  sailors' 
money  would  not  last  long.  However,  this  was  none 
of  Phil's  business.  It  was  only  nine  o'clock  in  the 
forenoon,  and  he  had  already  secured  enough  to  pur 
chase  immunity  from  blows  at  night.  Still  there  was 
one  thing  unsatisfactory  about  it.  All  this  money 
was  to  go  into  the  hands  of  the  padrone.  Phil  him 
self  would  reap  none  of  the  benefit,  unless  he  bought 
his  dinner,  as  he  had  purchased  supper  the  evening 
before.  But  for  this  he  had  been  severely  punished, 
though  he  could  not  feel  that  he  had  done  very 
wrong  in  spending  the  money  he  had  himself  earned. 
However,  it  would  be  three  hours  yet  before  the  ques 
tion  of  dinner  would  come  up. 

He  put  the  money  into  the  pocket  of  his  ragged 
vest,  and  walked  on. 

It  was  not  so  cold  as  the  day  before.  The  ther 
mometer  had  risen  twenty-five  degrees  during  the 


TUG    YOC7NG   STREE  F  MUSICTAX.  721 

night,  —  a  great  change,  but  not  unusual  in  our  vari 
able  climate.  Phil  rather  enjoyed  this  walk,  notwith 
standing  his  back  was  a  little  lame. 

He  walked  up  the  Bowery  to  the  point  where  Third 
and  Fourth  Avenues  converge  into  it.  lie  kept  on 
the  left-hand  side,  and  walked  up  Fourth  Avenue, 
passing  the  Cooper  Institute  and  the  Bible  House, 
and,  a  little  farther  on,  Stewart's  magnificent  marble 
store.  On  the  block  just  above  stood  a  book  and 
periodical  store,  kept,  as  the  sign  indicated,  by 
Richard  Burnton.  Phil  paused  a  moment  to  look  in 
at  the  windows,  which  were  filled  with  a  variety  of 
attractive  articles.  Suddenly  he  was  conscious  of 
his  violin  being  forcibly  snatched  from  under  his 
arm.  lie  turned  quickly,  and  thought  he  recognized 
Tim  Hafferty,  to  whom  the  reader  was  introduced  in 
the  third  chapter  of  this  story. 


122  rniL,  THE  FIDDLER;  OR. 


CHAPTER    XIII. 

PHIL    FINDS    A    CAPITALIST. 

To  account  for  Phil's  unexpected  loss,  I  must 
explain  that  Tim  Raffert}r,  whose  ordinary  place  of 
business  was  in  or  near  the  City  Hall  Park,  had  been 
sent  up-town  on  an  errand.  lie  was  making  his  way 
back  leisurely,  when,  just  as  he  was  passing  Burnton's 
bookstore,  he  noticed  Phil  looking  in  at  the  window. 
He  immediately  recognized  him  as  the  little  Italian 
fiddler  who  had  refused  to  lend  him  his  fiddle,  as  de 
scribed  in  a  previous  chapter.  In  this  attempt  he 
was  frustrated  by  Paul  Hoffman.  His  defeat  incensed 
him,  and  he  determined,  if  he  ever  met  Phil  again, 
to  "  get  even  with  him,"  as  he  expressed  it.  It 
struck  him  that  this  was  a  good  opportunity  to  bor 
row  his  fiddle  without  leave. 

When  Phil  discovered  his  loss,  he  started  to  run 
after  the  thief. 

"  Give  me  back  my  fiddle,"  he  cried. 


THE    TOUNG   STREET  MUSICIAN.  123 

But  this,  Tim  was  in  no  hurry  to  do.  As  he  had 
longer  legs  than  Phil,  the  chances  were  that  he  would 
escape.  But  some  distance  ahead  he  saw  one  of  the 
blue-coated  guardians  of  the  public  peace,  or,  in 
newsboy  parlance,  a  copp,  and  saw  that  Phil  could 
easily  prove  theft  against  him,  as  it  would  be  im 
possible  to  pass  himself  off  as  a  fiddler.  He  must 
get  rid  of  the  violin  in  some  wa}T,  and  the  sooner  the 
better.  He  threw  it  into  the  middle  of  the  street, 
just  as  a  heavy  cart  was  coming  along.  The  wheels 
of  the  ponderous  vehicle  passed  over  the  frail  instru 
ment,  crushing  it  utterly.  Phil  ran  forward  to  rescue 
his  instrument,  but  too  late.  It  was  spoiled  beyond 
recovery.  Phil  picked  up  the  pieces  mechanically, 
and  took  them  back  with  him,  but  he  soon  realized 
that  he  might  as  well  cast  them  away  again.  Mean 
while  Tim,  satisfied  with  the  mischief  he  had  done, 
and,  feeling  revenged  for  his  former  mortification, 
walked  up  a  side  street,  and  escaped  interference. 

Phil  had  come  to  one  of  those  crises  in  human  ex 
perience  when  it  is  necessary  to  pause  and  decide 
what  to  do  nest.  The  fiddle  was  not  a  valuable  one, 
—  in  fact,  it  was  a  shabby  little  instrument,  —  but  it 


124  PHIL,  THE  FIDDLER;  OB, 

was  Phil's  stock  in  trade.  Moreover,  it  belonged  to 
the  padrone,  and  however  innocent  Phil  might  be  as 
regarded  its  destruction,  his  tj'rannical  master  was 
snre  to  call  him  to  heavy  account  for  it.  He  was 
certain  to  be  severely  punished,  more  so  than  the 
evening  before,  and  this  was  not  a  pleasant  prospect 
to  look  forward  to.  The  padrone  was  sure  not  to 
fonrive  an  offence  like  this. 


Thinking  over  these  things,  a  bold  suggestion  came 
into  Phil's  mind.  Wiy  need  he  go  lack  at  all  ? 
Why  should  he  not  take  this  occasion  for  breaking 
his  fetters,  and  starting  out  into  life  on  his  own  ac 
count  ?  There  was  nothing  alarming  in  that  prospect. 
He  was  not  afraid  but  that  he  could  earn  his  own  liv 
ing,  and  fare  better  than  he  did  at  present,  when  out 
of  his  earnings  and  those  of  his  comrades  the  padrone 
was  growing  rich.  Other  bo}-s  had  run  away,  and 
though  some  had  been  brought  back,  others  had  man 
aged  to  keep  out  of  the  clutches  of  their  despotic 
master. 

It  did  not  take  Phil  long  to  come  to  a  decision. 
He  felt  that  he  should  never  have  a  better  chance. 
He  had  three  dollars  in  his  pocket,  —  thanks  to  the 


THE    TOUNO   STREET  MUSICIAN.  125 

generosity  of  the  sailors,  —  and  this  would  last  him 
some  time.  It  would  enable  him  to  get  out  of  the 
city,  which  would  be  absolutely  necessary,  since,  if 
ho  remained,  the  padrone  would  send  Pictro  for  him, 
and  get  him  back. 

There  was  only  one  regret  he  had  at  leaving  the 
padrone.  It  would  part  him  from  his  little  comrade, 
Giacomo.  Giacomo,  at  least,  would  miss  him.  lie 
wished  the  little  boy  could  have  gone  with  him,  but 
this,  under  present  circumstances,  was  impossible. 
By  staying  he  would  only  incur  a  severe  punishment, 
without  being  able  to  help  his  comrade. 

It  was  still  but  nine  o'clock.  lie  had  plenty  of 
time  before  him,  as  he  would  not  be  missed  by  the 
padrone  until  he  failed  to  make  his  appearance  at 
night.  Having  no  further  occasion  to  go  up-town,  he 
decided  to  turn  and  walk  down  into  the  business 
portion  of  the  city.  He  accordingly  made  his  way 
leisurely  to  the  City  Hall  Park,  when  he  suddenly  be 
thought  himself  of  Paul  Hoffman,  who  had  served  as 
hie  friend  on  a  former  occasion.  Besides  Giacomo, 
Paul  was  the  only  friend  on  whom  he  could  rely  in 
the  city.  Paul  was  older  and  had  more  experience 


126  pzr/L,  THE  FIDDLER;  a/?, 

than  be,  and  could  no  doubt  give  him  good  advice 
as  to  his  future  plans. 

He  crossed  the  Park  and  Broadway,  and  kept 
along  on  the  west  side  of  the  street  until  he  reached 
the  neck-tie  stand  kept  by  Paul.  The  young  street- 
merchant  did  not  at  first  see  him,  being  cccupied 
with  a  customer,  to  whom  he  finally  succeeded  in  sell 
ing  two  neck-ties ;  then  looking  up  he  recognized 
the  young  fiddler. 

"How  are  you,  Phil?"  he  said,  in  a  friendly 
manner.  "  Where  have  you  kept  yourself?  I  have 
not  seen  you  for  a  long  time." 

"  I  have  been  fiddling,"  said  Phil. 

uBut  I  don't  see  your  violin  now.  What  has  be 
come  of  it?" 

"  It  is  broken  —  destroyed,"  said  Phil. 

"  How  did  that  happen?" 

Phil  described  the  manner  in  which  his  violin  had 
been  stolen. 

"  Do  you  know  who  stole  it?  " 

"  It  was  that  boy  who  tried  to  take  it  once  in  the 
Park." 

"  When  I  stopped  him? " 


THE    YOUNG   STREET  MUSICIAN".  127 

«  Yes." 

"  I  know  him.     It  is  Tiin  Raflerty.     He  is  a  mean 

f<r 
boy  ;  I  will  pay  him  up  for  it." 

"  I  do  not  care  for  it  now,"  said  Phil. 

"Bit  what  will  3rour  padrone  say  when  you  come 
home  without  it?" 

"  He  would  beat  me  ;  but  I  will  not  go  home." 

"  What  will  you.  do  ?  " 

"  I  will  run  away." 

"  Good  for  you,  Phil !  I  like  your  spunk,"  said 
Paul,  heartily.  "  I  wouldn't  go  back  to  the  old 
villain,  if  I  were  you.  Where  are  you  going?" 

"  Away  from  New  York.  If  I  stay  here  the  padrone 
would  catch  me." 

"  How  much  did  you  earn  with  your  fiddle,  when 
you  had  it  ?  " 

"  Two  dollars,  if  it  was  a  good  day." 

"  That  is  excellent.  I'll  tell  you  what,  Phil,  if  you 
could  stay  in  the  city,  I  would  invite  you  to  come  and 
live  with  us.  You  could  pay  your  share  of  the 
expense,  say,  three  or  four  dollars  a  week,  and  keep 
the  rest  of  your  monoy  to  buy  clothes,  and  to  save." 


128  PHIL,  THE  FIDDLER;  on, 

"  I  should  like  it,"  said  Phil ;  «  but  if  I  stay  in 
the  city,  the  padrone  would  get  hold  of  me." 

" Has  he  any  legal  right  to  your  services?"  asked 
Paul. 

Phil  looked  puzzled.  He  did  not  understand  the 
question. 

"  I  mean,  did  your  father  sign  any  paper,  giving 
you  to  him?" 

"  Yes,"  said  Phil,  comprehending  now. 

"Then  I  suppose  he  could  take  you  back.  You 
think  you  must  go  away  from  the  city  then,  Phil?" 

"  Yes." 

"  Where  do  you  think  of  going?  " 

"  I  do  not  know." 

"You  might  go  into  Jersey, — to  Newark,  which  ia 
quite  a  largo  city,  only  ten  miles  from  here." 

"  I  should  like  to  go  there." 

"  I  don't  think  the  padrone  would  send  there  to  find 
you.  But  how  are  you  going  to  make  your  living; 
jou  have  lost  your  fiddle?  " 

"  I  can  sing." 

"  But  you  would  make  more  monoy  with  your 
fiddle." 


THE    YOUNG   STREET  MUSICIAN.  129 

"  Si,  signore." 

"  Don't  talk  to  mo  in  Italian,  Phil,  I  no  understand 
it." 

Phil  laughed. 

u  You  can  speak  English  much  better  than  most 
Italian  boys." 

"  Some  cannot  speak  at  all.  Some  speak  French, 
because  we  all  stayed  in  Paris  some  time  before  we 
came  to  America." 

41  Parlez-vous  Franeais?  " 

"  Oui,  monsieur,  un  peu." 

44  Well,  I  can't.  Those  three  words  are  all  the 
French  I  know.  But,  I  say,  Phil,  }TOU  ought  to  have  a 
fiddle." 

44 1  should  like  to  have  one.  I  should  make  more 
money." 

"  How  much  would  one  cost? 

44 1  don't  know." 

44  I'll  tell  you  what  I  will  do,  Phil,"  said  Paul,  after 
a  moment's  thought.  "  I  know  a  pawnbroker's  shop 
on  Chatham  Street,  where  there  is  a  fiddle  for  sale.  I 
don't  think  it  will  cost  very  much  ;  not  more  than  five 
dollars.  You  must  buy  it." 


130  PHIL,  THE  FIDDLER;  ox, 

•'  I  have  not  five  dollars,"  said  Phil. 


"  Then  I  will  lend  you  the  money.  You  shall  buy 
it,  and  when  you  have  earned  money  enough,  you 
shall  come  back  to  New  York  some  day,  and  pay  me." 

"  Thank  you,"  said  Phil,  gratefully.  "  I  will  surely 
pay  yon." 

"  Of  course  you  will,  Phil,"  said  Paul,  confidently. 

"  I  can  see  by  your  face  that  you  are  honest.  I 
don't  believe  you  would  cheat  your  friend." 

"  I  would  not  cheat  you,  Signor  Paul." 

"  I  see,  Phil,  you  are  bound  to  make  an  Italian  of 
me.  You  may  just  call  me  Paul,  and  don't  mind_about 
the  signor.  Now  I'll  tell  you  what  I  propose.  I 
cannot  leave  my  business  for  an  hour  and  a  half.  You 
can  go  where  you  please,  but  come  back  at  that  time, 
and  I  will  take  you  home  to  dinner  with  me.  On  the 
way  back,  I  will  stop  with  you  at  the  Chatham  Street 
store,  and  ask  the  price  of  the  violin ;  then,  if  it 
doesn't  cost  too  much,  I  will  buy  it." 

"  All  right,"  said  Phil. 

"  You  must  come  back  at  twelve  o'clock,  Phil." 

"  I  will  come." 

Phil  strolled  down  to  the  Battery,  feeling  a  litti* 


THE    YOUNG   STREET  MUSICIAN.  131 

strange  without  his  violin.  He  was  elated  with  the 
thought  of  his  coming  freedom,  and  for  the  first  time 
since  he  landed  in  America  the  future  looked  bright 
to  him. 


132  pniL)  THE  FIDDLER; 


CHAPTER    XIV. 

LUCIA,    THE   TA3IBOURINE    GIRL. 

ARRIVING  at  Trinity  Church  Phil  turned  into  Wall 
Street,  looking  about  him  in  a  desultory  way,  for  he 
was  at  present  out  of  business.  Men  and  bo}~s  were 
hurrying  by,  in  different  directions,  to  and  from  banks 
and  insurance  offices,  while  here  and  there  a  lawyer 
or  lawyer's  clerk  might  be  seen  looking  no  less  busy 
and  preoccupied.  If  Phil  had  had  three  thousand 
dollars  instead  of  three,  he,  too,  might  have  been  in 
terested  in  the  price  of  gold  and  stocks ;  but  his 
financial  education  had  been  neglected,  and  he  could 
not  have  guessed  within  twenty  the  day's  quotations 
for  either. 

As  he  walked  along,  his  attention  was  suddenly 
drawn  to  a  pair  of  Italians,  a  man  and  a  girl  of 
twelve,  the  former  turning  a  hand-organ,  the  latter 
playing  on  a  tambourine.  There  was  nothing  un 
usual  in  the  group ;  but  Phil's  heart  beat  quick,  for 


THE    YOUNG   STREET  MUSICIAN".  133 

in  the  girl  he  thought  he  recognized  a  playmate  from 
the  same  village  in  which  he  was  born  and  bred. 

u  Lucia ! "  he  called,  eagerly,  approaching  the 
pair. 

The  girl  turned  quickl}',  and,  seeing  the  young 
fiddler,  let  fall  her  tambourine  in  surprise. 

"  Filippo  ! "  she  exclaimed,  her  eyes  lighting  up 
with  the  joy  with  which  we  greet  a  friend's  face  in  a 
strange  land. 

"  Why  did  you  drop  your  tambourine,  scellcrata?" 
demanded  the  man,  harshly. 

Lucia,  a  pretty  brown-faced  girl,  did  not  lose  her 
joyful  looks  even  at  this  rebuke.  She  stooped  and 
picked  up  the  tambourine,  and  began  to  play  me- 
chamcall3r,  but  continued  to  speak  to  Filippo. 

"How  long  are  you  in  the  city?"  asked  Phil, 
speaking,  of  course,  in  his  native  language. 

"  Only  two  weeks,"  answered  Lucia.  "  I  am  so 
glad  to  see  you,  Filippo." 

"  When  did  you  come  from  Italy?" 

"  I  cannot  tell.     I  think  it  is  about  two  months." 

"  And  did  you  see  my  mother  before  you  came 
away  ?  "  asked  Phil,  eagerly. 


134  PHIL,  THE  FIDDLER;  OR, 

"  Yes,  Filippo,  I  saw  her.  She  told  me  if  I  saw 
you,  to  say  that  she  longed  for  her  dear  boy  to 
return ;  that  she  thought  of  him  day  and  night." 

"  Did  she  say  that,  Lucia?  " 

"  Yes,  Filippo." 

"  And  is  my  mother  well?"  asked  Phil,  anxiously, 
for  he  had  a  strong  love  for  his  mother. 

u  She  is  well,  Filippo,  —  she  is  not  sick,  but  she  is 
thin,  and  she  looks  sad." 

"  I  will  go  and  see  her  some  day/'  said  Phil.  "  I 
wish  I  could  see  her  now." 

"When  will  you  go?" 

"  I  don't  know ;  when  I  am  older." 

"But  where  is  your  fiddle,  Filippo?"  asked 
Lucia.  "Do  you  not  play?" 

Filippo  glanced  at  the  organ-grinder,  whom  he  did 
not  dare  to  take  into  his  confidence.  So  he  an 
swered,  evasively :  — 

"Another  boy  took  it.  I  shall  get  another  this 
afternoon." 

"  Are  you  with  the  padrone? " 

41  Yes." 


THE    YOUNG   STREET  MUSICIAN.  135 

"  Come,  Lucia,"  said  the  man,  roughly,  ceasing  to 
play,  "  we  must  go  on." 

Lucia  followed  her  companion  obediently,  reluctant 
to  leave  Phil,  with  whom  she  desired  to  converse 
longer ;  but  the  latter  saw  that  her  guardian  did  not 
wish  the  conversation  to  continue,  and  so  did  not 
follow. 

His  unexpected  meeting  with  Lucia  gave  him  much 
to  think  of.  It  carried  back  his  thoughts  to  his 
humble,  but  still  dear  Italian  home,  and  the  mother 
from  whom  he  had  never  met  with  anything  but  kind 
ness,  and  a  longing  to  see  both  made  him  for  the 
moment  almost  sad.  But  he  was  naturally  of  a  joyous 
temperament,  and  hope  soon  returned. 

"  I  will  save  money  enough  to  go  home,"  he  said  to 
himself.  "  It  will  not  take  very  much,  not  more  than 
fifty  dollars.  I  can  get  it  soon  if  I  do  not  have  to 
pay  money  to  the  padrone." 

As  may  be  inferred,  Phil  did  not  expect  to  return 
home  in  st}Tle.  A  first-class  ticket  on  a  Cunarder  was 
far  above  his  expectation.  He  would  be  content  to  go 
by  steerage  all  the  way,  and  that  could  probably  be 


136  p/7/z,  777V?  FIDDLER;  07?, 

done  for  the  sura  be  named.  So  his  sadness  was  but 
brief,  and  he  soon  became  hopeful  again. 

lie  was  aroused  from  his  thoughts  of  home  by  a 
Land  laid  familiarly  on  his  shoulder.  Turning,  he 
saw  a  boot-black,  whose  adventures  have  been  chron 
icled  in  the  volume  called  "  Ragged  Dick."  They  had 
become  acquainted  some  three  months  before,  Dick 
having  acted  as  protector  to  Phil  against  some  rough 
boys  of  his  own  class. 

"Been  buyin'  stocks?"  asked  Dick. 

"  I  don't  know  what  they  are,"  said  Phil,  innocently. 

"  You're  a  green  one,"  said  Dick.  "  I  shall  have 
to  take  you  into  my  bankin'-house,  and  give  j'ou  some 
training  in  business." 

"Have  you  got  a  bankin'-house?"  asked  Phil,  in 
surprise. 

"In  course  I  have.  Don't  you  see  it?"  pointing 
to  an  imposing-looking  structure  in  front  of  which 
they  were  just  pcosing.  "  My  clerks  is  all  hard  to 
work  in  there,  while  I  go  out  to  take  the  air  for  the 
benefit  of  my  constitushun." 

Phil  looked  puzzled,  not  quite  understanding  Dick's 
chaffing,  and  looked  rather  inquiringly  at  the  blacking- 


THE    YOUNG   STREET  MUSICIAN.  137 

box,  finding  it  a  little  difficult  to  understand  why  a 
banker  on  so  large  a  scale  should  be  blacking  boots 
in  the  street. 

"  Shine  yer  boots,  sir?"  said  Dick  to  a  gentleman 
jv.st  passing. 

"  Not  now  ;  I'm  in  a  hurry." 

"  Blackin'  boots  is  good  exercise,"  continued  Dick, 
answering  the  doubt  in  Phil's  face.  "  I  do  it  for  the 
benefit  of  my  health,  thus  combinin'  profit  with 
ealubriousness." 

"  I  can't  understand  such  long  words,"  said  Phil. 
"  I  don't  know  much  English." 

*'  I  would  talk  to  you  in  Italian,"  said  Dick,  "  only 
it  makes  my  head  ache.  What's  come  of  your  fiddle  ? 
You  haven't  sold  it,  and  bought  Erie  shares,  have 
you?" 

"  A  boy  stole  it  from  me,  and  broke  it." 

"  I'd  like  to  lick  him.     Who  was  it  ?  " 

"  I  think  his  name  was  Tim  Rafferty." 

"  I  know  him,"  said  Dick.  "  I'll  give  him  a  lickin' 
next  time  I  see  him." 

"  Can  you? "  asked  Phil,  doubtfully,  for  his  enemy, 
was  as  large  as  Dick. 


138  PHIL,  THE  FIDDLER;  o/?, 

44  In  course  I  can.  My  fists  are  like  sledge-ham 
mers.  Jest  feel  my  muscle." 

Dick  straightened  out  his  arm,  and  Phil  felt  of  the 
muscle,  which  was  hard  and  firm. 

"  It's  as  tough  as  a  ten-year-old  chicken,"  said  Dick. 
"  It  won't  be  healthy  for  Tim  to  come  round  my  way. 
What  made  him  steal  }*our  fiddle  ?  He  aint  goin'  into 
thQ  musical  line,  is  he  ? " 

"  lie  was  angry,  because  I  didn't  want  to  lend 
it  to  him." 

Just  then  Tim  Rafferty  himself  turned  the  cor  net 
There  was  a  lull  in  his  business,  and  he  was  wander 
ing  along  the  street,  eating  an  apple. 

"  There  he  is,"  said  Phil,  suddenly  espying  his 
enemy. 

Dick  looked  up,  and  saw  with  satisfaction  that  Phil 
was  right.  Tim  had  not  yet  espied  either,  nor  did 
he  till  Dick  addressed  him. 

"  Are  you  round  collectin'  fiddles  this  mornin'?" 
he  asked. 

Tim  looked  up,  and  seeing  that  his  victim  had 
found  an  able  champion,  felt  anxious  to  withdraw. 


THE    TOUXG    STREET  MUSICIAN.  139 

He  was  about  to  turn  back,  but  Dick  advanced  with 
*  determined  air. 

"  Jest  stop  a  minute,  Tim  Rafferty,"  said  he. 
"  I'm  a-goin'  to  intervoo  you  for  the  '  Herald. '  That's 
vfhat  they  do  with  all  the  big  rascals  nowadays." 

"  I'm  in  a  hurry,"  said  Tim. 

"  That's  what  the  pickpocket  said  when  the  copp 
was  gently  persuadin'  him  to  go  to  the  Tombs,  but 
the  copp  didn't  see  it.  I  want  the  pleasure  of  your 
society  a  minute  or  two.  I  hear  you're  in  the  music 
business." 

"  No,  I'm  not,"  said  Tim,  shortly. 

"  What  made  you  borrer  this  boy's  fiddle  then?-" 

"  I  don't  know  anything  about  it,"  said  Tim. 

"  Some  folks  forgets  easy,"  returned  Dick.  "  I 
know'd  a  man  what  went  into  Tiffany's  and  took  up 
a  watch  to  look  at  it,  and  carried  it  off,  forgettin'  to 
pay  for  it.  That's  what  he  told  the  judge  the  next 
clay,  and  the  judge  sent  him  to  the  Island  for  a  few 
months  to  improve  his  memory.  The  air  over  to  the 
Island  is  very  good  to  improve  the  memory." 

"  You  ought  to  know,"  said  Tim,  sullenly ;  "  youVe 
been  there  times  enough." 


140  p/z/z,  THE  FIDDLER;  o/z, 

"  Have  I?"  said  Dick.  "Maybe  you  saw  me  there, 
Was  it  the  ninth  time  }TOU  was  there,  or  the  tenth?  " 

"  I  never  was  there,"  said  Tim. 

"Maybe  it  was  your  twin  brother,"  suggested 
Dick.  "What  made  you  break  my  friend's  fiddle? 
He  wouldn't  have  minded  it  so  much,  only  it  be 
longed  to  his  grandfather,  a  noble  count,  who  made* 
boots  for  a  livin'." 

"  I  don't  believe  he  had  a  fiddle,"  said  Tim. 

"  That's  where  your  forgetfulness  comes  in,"  said 
Dick.  "  Have  you  forgot  the  lickin*  I  gave  you  last 
summer  for  stealin'  my  blackin'-box  ?  " 

"  You  didn't  lick  me,"  said  Tim. 

"  Then  I'll  lick  you  harder  next  time,"  said  Dick. 

"  You  aint  able,"  said  Tim,  who,  glancing  over 
his  shoulder,  saw  the  approach  of  a  policeman,  and 
felt  secure. 

"  I  will  be  soon,"  said  Dick,  who  also  observed  the 
approach  of  the  policeman.  "  I'd  do  it  now,  only  I've 
got  to  buy  some  gold  for  a  friend  of  mine.  Just  let  me 
know  when  it's  perfectly  convenient  to  take  a  lickin'." 

Tim  shuffled  off,  glad  to  get  away  unharmed,  and 
Dick  turned  to  PbU. 


THE    TOUXG    STREET  MUSICIAN.  141 

"  I'll  give  him  a  lickin'  the  first  time  I  oatch  him, 
when  there  isn't  no  copp  around,"  he  said. 

Phil  left  his  friend  at  this  point,  for  he  saw  by  the 
clock  on  Trinity  spire  that  it  was  time  to  go  tack  to 
join  Paul  Hoffman,  as  he  had  agreed.  I  may  here 
add,  that  Phil's  wrongs  were  avenged  that  same  cvcn- 
ing,  his  friend  Dick  administering  to  Tim  the 
promised  "lickin'"  with  such  good  effect  that  tiie 
latter  carried  a  black  eye  for  a  week  afterwards 


142  PHILS  THE  FIDDLER; 


CHAPTER    XV. 
PHIL'S  NEW  PLANS. 

As  the  clock  struck  twelve,  Phil  reached  the  neck 
tie  stand  of  his  friend,  Paul  Hoffman. 

"  Just  in  time,"  said  Paul.     "  Are  you  hungry  ?  " 

"  A  little." 

"  That's  right.  You're  going  to  dine  with  me,  and 
I  want  you  to  bring  a  good  appetite  with  you." 

"What  will  your  mother  say?"  asked  Phil,  doubt 
fully. 

"  Wait  and  see.  If  you  don't  like  what  she  says 
you  can  go  off  without  eating.  Where  have  yo*- 
been?" 

"  I  went  down  to  Wall  Street." 

"  On  business  ?  "  inquired  Paul,  with  a  smile. 

"  No,"  said  Phil,  seriously.     "  I  saw  Lucia." 

"Who  is  she?" 

"  I  forgot.    You  don't  know  Lucia.     She  lived  in 


THE    YOUNG    STREET  MUSICIAN.  143 

my  home  in  Italy,  and  I  used  to  play  with  her.  She 
told  me  of  my  mother.'' 

"  That's  lucky,  Phil.      I  hope  your  mother  is  well." 

"  She  is  not  sick,  but  she  is  thin.  She  thinks  of 
mo,"  said  Phil. 

"  Of  course  she  does.  You  will  go  home  and  see  her 
some  day." 

44 1  hope  so." 

"  Of  course  you  will,"  said  Paul,  confidently 

"  I  saw  the  boy  who  stole  my  fiddle,"  continued 
Phil. 

"  Tim  Rafferty?" 

"Yes." 

"What  did  he  say?" 

"1  was  with  a  boot-black, —  the  one  they  call 
'  Ragged  Dick/  Do  you  know  him  ?  " 

"  Yes  ;  I  know  Dick.  He  is  a  bully  fellow,  always 
joking." 

"  Dick  wanted  to  lick  him,  but  a  policeman  came, 
and  he  went  away." 

" Does  Dick  know  that  he  stole  your  fiddle?" 

"  Yes." 


144  PHIL,    THE   FIDDLE R  /    O7Z, 

"  Then  he  will  be  sure  to  punish  him.  It  will  save 
me  the  trouble." 

The  walk  was  not  long.  Soon  they  were  at  Paul's 
door. 

"I  have  brought  company  to  dinner,  mother,"  said 
Paul,  entering  first. 

"  I  am  glad  to  see  you,  Phil,"  said  Mrs.  Hoffman. 
"  "Why  have  you  not  come  before  ?  " 

"How  is  that,  Phil?  Will  you  stay  now?"  said 
Paul. 

Mrs.  Hoffman  looked  at  Paul  inquiringly. 

"  Phil  was  afraid  he  would  not  be  welcome,"  he 
exclaimed. 

"  He  is  always  welcome,"  said  Mrs.  Hoffman. 

"  Where  is  your  fiddle  ?  "  asked  Jimmy. 

"  A  boy  took  it,"  said  Phil,  "  and  threw  it  into  the 
street,  and  a  wagon  went  over  it  and  broke  it." 

Jimmy  was  quite  indignant  for  his  friend,  when  the 
etory  had  been  told. 

"  It's  lucky  for  Tim  Rafferty  that  he  is  not  here," 
said  Paul,  "  or  he  might  suffer." 

ulf  I  was  a  big  boy  I'd  lick  him,"  said  Jimmy, 
belligerently. 


THE    YOUNG   STREET  MUSICIAN.  145 

"  I  never  saw  you  so  warlike  before,  Jimmy,"  said 
Paul. 

To  Phil  this  sympathy  seemed  pleasant.  He  *elt 
that  he  was  in  the  midst  of  friends,  and  friends  were 
not  so  plentiful  as  not  to  be  valued. 

"  What  are  37ou  going  to  have  for  dinner,  mother?" 
asked  Paul. 

"  I  am  sorry,  Paul,  that  I  have  no  warm  meat.  I 
have  some  cold  roast  beef,  some  hot  potatoes,  and  an 
apple  pudding." 

"You  needn't  apologize,  mother.  That's  good 
enough  for  anybody.  It's  as  good  as  Paul  gets  at 
his  boarding-house,  I  am  sure.  lie  has  got  rather 
tired  of  it,  and  isn't  going  to  stay." 

"Are  you  going  to  leave  the  padrone?"  asked 
Mrs.  Hoffman,  with  interest. 

"  Si,  signora,"  said  Phil. 

"Will  he  let  you  go?" 

"  I  shall  run  away,"  said  Phil. 

"  You  see,  mother,  Phil  would  be  sure  of  a  beating 
if  he  went  home  without  his  fiddle.  Now  he  doesn't 
like  to  be  beaten,  and  the  padrone  gives  harder  beat 
ings  than  you  do,  mother." 


146  PHIL,  THE  FIDDLER;  OR, 

"  I  presume  so,"  said  Mrs.  Hoffman,  smiling, 
"  I  do  not  think  I  am  very  severe." 

"  No,  you  spoil  the  rod  and  spare  the  child." 

"  Is  Phil  going  to  stay  in  the  city?  " 

"  No ;  the  padrone  would  get  hold  of  him  if  he  did, 
He  is  going  to  New  Jersey  to  make  his  fortune." 

"  But  he  will  need  a  fiddle." 

"  I  am  going  to  lend  him  money  enough  to  buy 
one.  I  know  a  pawnbroker  who  has  one  for  sale.  I 
think  I  can  get  it  for  three  or  four  dollars.  When  Phil 
gets  it,  he  is  going  round  giving  concerts.  How 
much  can  you  make  in  a  day,  Phil  ?  " 

"  Sometimes  I  make  two  dollars,"  answered  Phil. 

"  That  is  excellent,  especially  when  yon  are  your 
own  padrone.  You  will  be  able  to  save  up  money. 
You  will  have  to  buy  a  pocket-book,  Phil." 

"Where  will  you  sleep,  Phil?"  asked  Jimmy,  in 
terested. 

Phil  shrugged  his  shoulders.  He  had  not  thought 
of  that  question  particularly. 

"  I  do  not  know,"  he  said.  "  I  can  sleep  any 
where." 

"Of  course  he  will  stop  at  the  first-class  hotels, 


THE    YOUNG   STREET  MUSICIAN.  147 

Jimmy,"  said  Paul,  "  like  all  gentlemen  of  dis 
tinction.  I  shouldn't  wonder  if  he  manned  an  heir 
ess  in  six  months,  and  went  back  to  Italy  on  a  bridal 
tour." 

"  He  is  too  young  to  be  married,"  said  Jimmy, 
who,  it  will  be  perceived,  understood  everything 
literally. 

"  I  don't  know  but  he  is,"  said  Paul,  u  but  he  isn't 
too  old  to  be  hungry.  So,  mother,  whenever  dinner 
is  ready,  we  shall  be." 

"  It  is  all  ready  except  peeling  the  potatoes,  Paul." 

"  We  can  do  that  ourselves.  It  is  good  exercise, 
and  will  sharpen  our  appetites.  You  will  have  to 
eat  fast,  or  there  won't  be  much  left.  Jimmy  is  the 
most  tremendous  eater  I  ever  saw,  and  won't  leave 
much  for  the  rest  of  us,  if  we  give  him  the  chance." 

"  Now,  Paul,"  expostulated  Jimnn',  feeling 
aggrieved  at  this  charge,  "  you  know  I  don't  eat 
as  much  as  you  do." 

"Hear  him  talk,  Phil.  I  don't  eat  more  than 
enough  to  keep  a  fly  alive." 

"  It  must  be  a  pretty  large  fly,  Paul,"  said  Jimmy, 
ulyly. 


148  PHIL,  THE  FIDDLES;  OR, 

"Good  joke,  Jimmy.  Mother,  you  must  give 
Jimmy  twelve  potatoes  to-day  instead  of  the  ten  he 
usually  eats." 

u  O  Paul,  how  can  you  tell  such  stories  ? "  ex 
claimed  Jimmy,  shocked  at  such  an  extravagant 
assertion.  Phil  laughed,  for  there  was  something 
ludicrous  in  the  idea  of  Jimmy,  who  was  a  slight  boy 
of  seven,  making  way  with  such  large  quantities,  and 
the  little  boy  began  to  see  that  it  was  only  a  joke  at 
his  expense. 

The  dinner  went  off  well.  All  had  a  good  appetite, 
and  did  full  justice  to  Mrs.  Hoffman's  cookery.  The 
pudding  in  particular  was  pronounced  a  success.  It 
was  so  flaky  and  well-seasoned,  and  the  sauce, 
flavored  with  lemon,  was  so  good,  that  every  one 
except  Mrs.  Hoffman  took  a  second  piece.  For  the 
first  time  since  he  had  left  Italy.  Phil  felt  the  un 
comfortable  sensation  of  having  eaten  too  much. 
However,  with  the  discomfort  was  the  pleasant  rec 
ollection  of  a  good  dinner,  and  to  the  mind  of  the 
little  fiddler  the  future  brightened,  as  it  is  very  apt 
to  do  under  such  circumstances,  and  he  felt  ready  to 
go  out  and  achieve  his  fortune. 


THE    YOUNG    STREET  MUSICIAN.  149 

44  Why  won't  3rou  stop  with  us  to-night,  Phil,  and 
start  on  your  journey  to-morrow  ?  "  asked  Mrs.  IIofT 
man.  "  I  am  sure  Jimmy  would  be  glad  of  3'oui 
company." 

"  Yes,  Phil,  stay,"  said  Paul. 

Phil  hesitated.  It  was  a  tempting  invitation,  but, 
on  the  other  hand,  if  he  remained  in  the  city  till  the 
next  day  he  might  be  in  danger  from  the  padrone. 

lie  expressed  this  fear. 

"  I  am  afraid  the  padrone  would  catch  me,"  he 
said. 

"  No,  he  won't.  You  can  go  out  with  me  and  buy 
the  fiddle  now,  and  then  come  back  and  play  to 
mother  and  Jimmy.  To-morrow  morning  I  will_go 
.with  you  to  the  Jersey  City  Ferry  myself,  and  if  we 
meet  the  padrone,  I'll  give  him  a  hint  to  be  off." 

Phil  still  hesitated,  but  finally  yielded  to  the  united 
request.  But  it  was  now  one  o'clock,  and  Paul  must 
be  back  to  his  business.  Phil  took  his  cap  and  went 
with  him  to  purchase  the  fiddle,  promising  to  come 
back  directly. 

They  went  into  Chatham  Street,  and  soon  halted 


150  p/7/z,  THE  FIDDLER;  OR, 

before  a  small  shop,  in  front  of  which  were  three  gilt 
balls,  indicating  that  it  was  a  pawnbroker's  shop. 

Entering  they  found  themselves  in  a  small  apart 
ment,  about  twelve  feet  front  by  twenty  in  depth, 
completely  filled  with  pawnable  articles  in  great  va 
riety,  a  large  part,  however,  consisting  of  clothing ; 
for  when  the  poor  have  occasion  to  raise  money  at  a 
pawnbroker's,  they  generally  find  little  in  their  pos 
session  to  pawn  except  their  clothing.  Here  was  a 
shawl,  pawned  for  a  few  shillings,  by  a  poor  woman 
whose  intemperate  husband  threw  the  burden  of 
supporting  two  young  children  upon  her.  Next  to  it 
was  a  black  coat  belonging  to  a  clerk,  who  had  been 
out  of  employment  for  three  months,  and  now  was  out 
of  money  also.  Here  was  a  child's  dress,  pawned  by 
the  mother  in  dire  necessity  to  save  the  child  from 
starving.  There  was  a  plain  gold  ring,  snatched  by  a 
drunken  husband  from  the  finger  of  his  poor  wife,  not 
to  buy  food,  but  to  gratify  his  insatiable  craving  for 
drink. 

Over  this  scene  of  confusion  presided  a  little  old 
man  with  blear  eyes  and  wrinkled  face,  but  with  a 
sharp  glance,  fully  alive  to  his  own  interests.  lie  was 


THE    YOUSO   STREET  MUSICIAN.  151 

an  Englishman  born,  but  he  had  been  forty  years  in 
America.      He   will   be    remembered   by   those    who 


have  read  "Paul,  the  Peddler."  Though  nearly  as 
poverty-stricken  in  appearance  as  his  poorest  custom 
ers,  the  old  man  was  rich,  if  reports  were  true.  His 
business  was  a  very  profitable  one,  allowing  the  most 
exorbitant  rates  of  interest,  and,  being  a  miser,  he 
spent  almost  nothing  on  himself,  so  that  his  hoards 
had  increased  to  a  considerable  amount. 

He  looked  up  sharply,  as  Paul  and  Phil  entered,  and 
scanned  them  closely  with  his  ferret-like  eyes. 


152  P///Z,  THE  FIDDLER;  OR* 


CHAPTER    XVI. 

MRS.  HOFFMAN'S  FASHIONABLE  PARTY 


HENDERSON,  for  this  was  the  pawnbroker's 
name,  did  not  remember  Paul,  though  on  one  occasion 
our  hero  had  called  upon  him.  Nearly  all  his  cus 
tomers  came  to  pawn  articles,  not  to  purchase,  and 
Eliakim  naturally  supposed  that  the  two  boys  had 
come  on  this  errand.  Before  entering,  Paul  said  to 
Phil,  "  Don't  say  anything  ;  leave  me  to  manage." 

As  they  entered,  Phil  espied  a  fiddle  hanging  up 
behind  the  counter,  and  he  saw  at  a  glance  that  it 
was  better  than  the  one  he  had  been  accustomed  to 
play  upon.  But,  to  his  surprise,  Paul  did  not  refer 
to  it  at  first. 

"What  will  you  give  me  on  this  coat?"  asked 
Paul,  indicating  the  one  he  had  on. 

He  had  no  intention  of  selling  it,  but  preferred  to 
come  to  the  fiddle  gradually,  that  the  pawnbroker 


THE    YOUXO   STREET  MUSICIAN.  153 

might  not  think  that  was  his  main  object,  and  so 
charge  an  extra  price. 

Eliakim  scanned  the  garment  critically.  It  was 
nearly  new  and  in  excellent  condition,  and  he  coveted 
it. 

"  I  will  give  3rou  a  dollar,"  said  he,  naming  a  price 
low  enough  to  advance  upon. 

"  That  is  too  little,"  said  Paul,  shaking  his  head 

"  I  might  give  you  fifty  cents  more,  but  I  should 
lose  if  you  didn't  redeem  it." 

"  I  don't  think  you  would.  I  paid  ten  dollars  foi 
it." 

"  But  it  is  old." 

"  No,  it  isn't ;  I  have  only  had  it  a  few  weeks." 

u  How  much  do  3-011  want  on  it?"  asked  Eliakim, 
scanning  Paul  sharply,  to  see  how  much  he  seemed  in 
want  of  money. 

'•I  don't  want  any  to-day.  If  I  should  want  some 
next  week,  I  will  come  in." 

"  It  will  be  older  next  week,"  said  Eliakim,  not 
wanting  to  lose  the  bargain,  for  he  hoped  it  would  not 
be  redeemed. 

"Never  mind  ;  I  can  get  along  till  then." 


154  rniL,  THE  FIDDLER;  o/?, 

"  Can  I  do  no  business  with  you  this  morning?" 
asked  Eliakim,  disappointed. 

"I  don't  know,"  said  Paul,  looking  carelessly 
around.  u  My  friend,  here,  would  like  a  fiddle,  if  he 
can  get  one  cheap.  What  do  you  ask  for  that  one  up 
there?" 

Eliakim  took  down  the  fiddle  with  alacrity.  Ho 
had  had  it  on  hand  for  a  year  without  securing  a  cus 
tomer.  It  had  originally  been  pawned  by  a  poor 
musician,  for  a  dollar  and  a  quarter,  but  the  unfortu 
nate  owner  had  never  been  able  to  redeem  it.  Among 
his  customers,  the  pawnbroker  had  not  found  one  suf 
ficiently  musical  to  take  it  off  his  hands.  Here  was 
a  slight  chance,  and  he  determined  to  effect  a  sale  if 
he  could. 

"  It  is  a  splendid  instrument,"  he  said,  enthusiasti 
cally,  brushing  off  the  dust  with  a  dirty  cotton  hand 
kerchief.  "  I  have  had  many  chances  to  sell  it." 

"  Why  didn't  you  sell  it,  then?"  demanded  Paul, 
who  did  not  believe  a  word  of  this. 

"  Because  it  was  only  pawned.  I  kept  it  for  the 
owner." 

*f  Oh,  well,  if  you  can't  sell  it  no  matter." 


THE    YOUXG    STREET  MUSICIAN.  155 

"  It  is  for  sale  now,"  said  Eliakim,  quickty.  "  He 
has  not  come  for  it,  and  I  shall  keep  it  no  longer. 
Just  try  it.  See  what  a  sp-1-endid  instrument  it  is  !  " 
said  the  pawnbroker,  dwelling  on  the  adjective  to  give 
emphasis  to  it. 

Paul  tried  it,  but  not  knowing  how  to  play,  of 
course  created  only  discord.  He  did  not  offer  it  to 
Phil,  because  the  young  Italian  boy  would  have 
made  it  sound  too  well,  and  so  enhanced  the  price. 

"  It  don't  sound  very  well,"  said  he,  indifferently  ; 
"  but  I  suppose  it  will  do  to  learn  on.  What  do  you 
want  for  it?" 

"  Five  dollars,"  said  Eliakim,  studying  the  face  of 
Paul,  to  observe  the  effect  of  his  announcement. 

"  Five  dollars  !  "  repeated  Paul.  "  Take  it  back, 
then,  and  wait  till  A.  T.  Stewart  wants  one.  I  haven't 
got  five  dollars  to  throw  away." 

But  the  pawnbroker  did  not  expect  to  get  his  first 
price.  He  named  it,  in  order  to  have  a  chance  to  fall. 

"  Stay,"  he  said,  as  Paul  made  a  motion  to  leave  ; 
4  what  will  you  give  me  ?  " 

4i  I'll  give  you  a  dollar  and  a  half,"  said  Paul,  turn 
ing  back. 


156  p/z/L,  THE  FIDDLER;  OTJ. 

*'  A  dollar  and  a  half!  "  exclaimed  Eliakim,  holding 
np  both  hands  in  horror.  "  Do  you  want  :o  ruia 
me?" 

"  No,  I  think  you  want  to  ruin  me.  I  am  willirg 
to  pay  a  fair  price." 

"  You  may  have  it  for  three  dollars  and  a  half.'* 

"  No  doubt  you'd  be  glad  to  get  that.  Come, 
Phil,  we'll  go." 

"  Stay  ;  you  may  have  it  for  three  dollars,  though  7 
shall  lose  by  it." 

"  So  should  I,  if  I  paid  you  that  price.  I  can  wait 
till  some  other  time." 

But  Eliakim  did  not  intend  to  let  this  chance  slip 
He  had  found  the  fiddle  rather  unsalable,  and  feared 
if  he  lost  this  chance  of  disposing  of  it,  it  might  ro 
main  on  his  hands  for  a  year  more.  lie  was  willing 
therefore,  to  take  less  than  the  profit  he  usually  calcu 
lated  upon  in  the  sale  of  articles  which  remained  un 
redeemed. 

"You  may  have  it  for  two  dollars  and  and  a  half/' 
be  said. 

As  far  as  Paul  could  judge,  though  he  did  not 
know  much  about  the  price  of  violins,  this  was  a 


THE    YOUNG    STREET  MUSICIAN.  157 

fcasonable  price.  But  he  knew  that  Eliakim  must 
nave  got  it  for  considerably  less,  or  he  would  not  so 
soon  have  come  down  to  this  sum.  lie  did  not  hesi 
tate,  therefore,  to  try  to  get  it  a  little  cheaper. 

"  I'll  give  you  two  dollars  and  a  quarter,"  he  said, 
"  and  not  a  penny  more." 

Eliakim  tiled  hard  to  get  ten  cents  more,  but  Paul 
saw  that  he  was  sure  of  his  purchase,  and  remained 
obdurate.  So,  after  a  pretence  of  putting  up  the 
fiddle,  the  pawnbroker  finally  said,  "  You  may  have 
it,  but  I  shall  lose  money." 

"  All  right,"  said  Paul ;  "  hand  it  over." 

"Where  is  the  money?"  asked  Eliakim,  cau 
tiously. 

Paul  drew  from  his  pocket  a  two- dollar  bill  and 
twenty-five  cents  in  currency,  and  received  the  fiddle. 
The  pawnbroker  scrutinized  the  money  closely,  fear 
ing  that  it  might  be  bad  ;  but  finally,  making  up  his 
mind  on  that  point,  deposited  it  in  his  money-drawer. 

"  "Well,  Phil,  we  may  as  well  go,"  said  Paul. 
"  We've  got  through  our  business." 

The  pawnbroker  heard  this,  and  a  sudden  suspicion 


158  PHIL,  TUB  FIDDLER;  0/2, 

entered  his  mind  that  Paul  had  been  too  sharp  for 
him. 

"  I  might  have  got  twenty-five  cents  more,"  he 
thought,  regretfully ;  and  this  thought  disturbed  the 
complacency  he  felt  at  first. 

"  Well,  Phil,  how  do  you  like  it?"  asked  Paul,  as 
they  emerged  into  the  street. 

"  Let  me  try  it,"  said  Phil,  eagerly. 

lie  struck  up  a  tune,  which  he  played  through,  his 
face  expressing  the  satisfaction  he  felt. 

**  Is  it  as  good  as  your  old  one  ?  " 

"  It  is  much  better,"  said  Phil.  "  I  will  pay  you 
for  it ;"  and  he  drew  out  the  money  the  sailors  had 
given  him  in  the  morning. 

"  No,  Phil,"  said  his  friend,  "  you  may  need  that 
money.  Keep  it,  and  pay  me  when  you  have  more." 

"  But  I  shall  be  away." 

"  You  will  come  to  the  city  some  day.  When  you 
do  you  will  know  where  to  find  me.  Now  go  and 
play  a  tune  to  Jimmy.  He  is  waiting  for  you.  If 
you  remain  in  the  streets,  your  old  enemy,  Tim  Kaf 
ferty,  may  want  to  borrow  you  r  fiddle  again." 


THE    YOUNG    STREET  MUSICIAN.  159 

"You  are  very  kind  to  me,  Paolo,"  said  Phil,  rais 
ing  his  dark  eyes  with  a  sudden  impulse  of  gratitude. 

"  It's  nothing,  Phil,"  said  Paul,  modestly  ;  "  you 
would  do  the  same  for  me  if  I  needed  it." 

"  Yes,  I  would,"  said  Phil ;  "  but  I  am  poor,  and  I 
cannot  help  you." 

"  You  won't  be  poor  always,  Phil,"  said  Paul, 
cheerfully,  "nor  I  either,  I  hope.  I  mean  to  be  a 
merchant  some  time  on  a  bigger  scale  than  now.  As 
for  you,  you  will  be  a  great  player,  and  give  concerts 
at  the  Academy  of  Music." 

Phil  laughed,  but  seemed  pleased  at  the  prophecy. 

"  Well,  Phil,  I  must  bid  you  good-by  for  a  little 
while,  or  my  clerks  will  be  cheating  me.  I  will  see 
you  at  supper." 

"  Addio,  Paolo,"  said  Phil. 

"Addio,"  said  Paul,  laughing.  "Wouldn't  I 
make  a  good  Italian  ?  " 

Paul  returned  to  his  stand,  and  Phil  took  the  direc 
tion  of  Mrs.  Hoffman's  rooms.  While  on  his  way 
he  heard  the  sound  of  a  hand-organ,  and,  looking 
across  the  way,  saw,  with  some  uneasiness,  his  old 
enemy  Pictro,  playing  to  a  crowd  of  boys. 


160  PHIL,  THE  FIDDLER;  o/?, 

"  I  hope  he  won't  see  me,"  said  Phil  to  himself. 

He  was  afraid  Pietro  would  remember  his  old 
violin,  and,  seeing  the  difference  in  the  instrument  he 
now  had,  inquire  how  he  got  it.  He  might,  if  not 
satisfied  on  this  point,  take  Phil  home  with  him, 
which  would  be  fatal  to  his  plans.  He  thought  it 
prudent,  therefore,  to  turn  down  the  next  street,  and 
get  out  of  sight  as  soon  as  possible.  Fortunately 
for  him  Pietro  had  his  back  turned  so  that  he  did  not 
observe  him.  Nothing  would  have  pleased  him 
better  than  to  get  the  little  fiddler  into  trouble,  for, 
besides  being  naturally  malicious,  he  felt  that  an  ex 
hibition  of  zeal  in  his  master's  service  would  entitle 
him  to  additional  favors  at  the  hands  of  the  padrone, 
whom  he  hoped  some  day  to  succeed. 

"  Oh,  what  a  beautiful  fiddle !  "  said  Jimmy,  in 
admiration,  as  Phil  reappeared.  "  Do  you  think  1 
could  play  on  it  ?  " 

Phil  shook  his  head,  smiling. 

"  Don't  let  Jimmy  have  it.  He  would  only  spoil 
it,"  said  Mrs.  Hoffman.  "  I  don't  think  he  would 
succeed  as  well  in  music  as  in  drawing." 

"  Will  you  play  something?  "  asked  Jimmy 


THE    TOHXG    STREET  MUSICIAN.  161 

Phil  willingly  complied,  and  for  half  an  hour  held 
Jimmy  entranced  with  his  playing.  The  little  boy 
then  undertook  to  teach  Phil  how  to  draw,  but  at  this 
Phil  probably  cut  as  poor  a  figure  as  his  instructor 
would  have  done  at  playing  on  the  violin. 

So  the  afternoon  wore  away,  happily  for  all  three, 
and  at  five  Paul  made  his  appearance.  When  supper 
was  over  Phil  played  again,  and  this  attracting  the 
attention  of  the  neighbors,  Mrs.  Hoffman's  rooms 
were  gradually  filled  with  visitors,  who  finally  re 
quested  Phil  to  piny  some  dancing-tunes.  Finding 
him  able  to  do  so,  an  impromptu  dance  was  got  up, 
and  Mrs.  Hoffman,  considerably  to  her  surprise, 
found  that  she  was  giving  a  dancing-party.  Paul,  that 
nothing  might  be  left  out,  took  a  companion  with  him 
and  they  soon  reappeared  with  cake  and  ice-cream, 
which  were  passed  around  amid  great  hilarity  ;  and  it 
was  not  until  midnight  that  the  last  visitor  went  out, 
and  the  sound  of  music  and  laughter  was  hushed. 

"  You  are  getting  fashionable  in  your  old  age, 
mother,"  said  Paul,  gayly.  "  I  think  I  shall  send  an 
account  of  your  party  to  the  '  Home  Journal.' " 


162  PZ7//,,  THE  FIDDLER;  GJJ, 

"  I  believe  it  is  usual  to  describe  the  dresses  of  the 
ladies,"  said  Mrs.  Hoffman,  smiling. 

"  Oh,  yes,  I  won't  forget  that.  Just  give  me 
a  piece  of  paper  and  see  how  I  will  do  it." 

Paul,  whose  education  I  repeat  here,  was  consider 
ably  above  that  of  most  boys  in  his  position,  sat 
clown  and  hastily  wrote  the  following  description, 
which  was  read  to  the  great  amusement  of  his  audi 
tors  :  — 

"  Mrs.  Hoffman,  mother  of  the  well-known  artist, 
Jimmy  Hoffman,  Esq.,  gave  a  fashionable  party  last 
evening.  Her  spacious  and  elegant  apartments  were 
crowded  with  finely  dressed  gentlemen  and  ladies 
from  the  lower  part  of  the  city.  Signor  Filippo,  the 
great  Italian  musician,  furnished  the  music.  Mrs. 
Hoffman  appeared  in  a  costly  calico  dress,  and  had  a 
valuable  gold  ring  on  one  of  her  fingers.  Her  son, 
the  artist,  was  richly  dressed  in  a  gray  suit,  pur 
chased  a  year  since.  Miss  Bridget  Flaherty,  of  Mott 
Street,  was  the  belle  of  the  occasion,  and  danced 
with  such  grace  and  energy  that  the  floor  came  near 
giving  way  beneath  her  fairy  tread.  (Miss  Flaherty, 
by  the  way,  weighed  one  hundred  and  eighty 


THE    YOUXG    STREET  MUSICIAN.  163 

pounds.)  Mr.  Mike  Donovan,  newspaper  merchant, 
handed  ronnd  refreshments  with  his  usual  graceful 
and  elegant  deportment.  Miss  Matilda  Wiggins  ap 
peared  in  a  magnificent  print  dress,  imported  from 
Paris  by  A.  T.  Stewart,  and  costing  a  shilling  a  yard. 
No  gloves  were  worn,  as  they  are  now  dispensed  with 
in  the  best  society.  At  a  late  hour  the  guests  dis 
persed.  Mrs.  Hoffman's  party  will  long  be  remem 
bured  as  the  most  brilliant  of  the  season." 

"  I  did  not  know  3*011  had  so  much  talen't  for  re 
porting,  Paul,"  said  his  mother.  "  You  forgot  one 
thing,  however.'* 

"What  is  that?" 

"You  said  nothing  of  }Tourself." 

"  I  was  too  modest,  mother.  However,  if  you  in 
sist  upon  it,  I  will  do  so." 

Paul  resumed  his  writing,  and  in  a  short  time  had 
the  following :  — 

"  Among  those  present  we  observed  the  handsome 
and  accomplished  Paul  Hoffman,  Esq.,  the  oldest  son 
of  the  hostess.  He  was  elegantly  dressed  in  a  pepper- 
an  1  salt  coat  and  vest,  blue  neck-tie,  and  brown 
breeches,  and  wore  a  six-cent  diamond  breast-pin  in 


1G4  PHIL,  THE  FIDDLER;  OR, 

the  bosom  of  his  shirt.  His  fifteen-cent  handkerchief 
was  perfumed  with  cologne  which  he  imported  him 
self  at  a  cost  of  ten  cents  per  bottle.  lie  attracted 
general  admiration." 


"  You  seem  to  have  got  over  your  modest3r,  Paul," 
said  his  mother. 

"  I  am  sleepy,"  said  Jimmy,  rubbing  his  eyes. 

As  this  expressed  the  general  feeling,  they  retired 
to  bed  at  once,  and  in  half  an  hour  were  wandering 
in  the  land  of  dreams. 


THE    YOUNG   STREET  MUSICIAN:  165 


CHAPTER    XVII. 

THE    PADRONE    IS    ANXIOUS. 

THE  next  morning  Paul  and  Phil  rose  later  than 
usual.  They  slept  longer,  in  order  to  make  up  for 
the  late  hour  at  which  they  retired.  As  they  sat 
down  to  breakfast,  at  half-past  eight,  Paul  said,  "I 
wonder  whether  the  padrone  misses  you,  Phil?" 

"  Yes,"  said  Phil ;  u  he  will  be  very  angry  because 
I  did  not  come  back  last  night/' 

"  Will  he  think  you  have  run  away?" 

u  I  do  not  know.  Some  of  the  boys  stay  away 
sometimes,  because  they  arc  too  far  off  to  come 
home." 

"  Then  he  may  expect  you  to-night.  I  suppose 
he  will  have  a  beating  ready  for  you." 

"  Yes,  lie  would  beat  me  very  hard,"  said  Phil, 
"if  he  thought  I  did  not  mean  to  come  back." 

"  I  should  like  to  go  and  tell  IIUM  thai;  he  need  not 
expect  you.  I  should  like  to  see  i-.rw  LP  looks" 


166  P777L,    THE   FIDDLER;    OX, 

"  lie  might  beat  }*ou  too,  Paolo." 

"  I  sliould  like  to  see  him  try  it,"  said  Paul, 
straightening  np  with  a  consciousness  of  strength. 
"lie  might  find  that  rather  hard." 

Phil  looked  admiringly  at  the  boy  who  was  not 
afraid  of  the  padrone.  Like  his  comrades,  he  had 
been  accustomed  to  think  of  the  padrone  as  possessed 
of  unlimited  power,  and  never  dreamed  of  anybody 
def3"ing  him,  or  resisting  his  threats.  Though  he  had 
determined  to  run  ziway,  his  soul  was  not  free  from 
the  tyranny  of  his  late  task-master,  and  he  thought 
with  uneasiness  and  dread  of  the  possibility  of  his 
being  conveyed  back  to  him. 

"  Well,  mother,"  said  Paul,  glancing  at  the  clock 
as  he  rose  from  the  breakfast  table,  u  it  is  almost 
nine  o'clock,  —  rather  a  late  hour  for  a  business  man 
like  me." 

"  You  are  not  often  so  late,  Paul." 

"It  is  lucky  that  I  am  my  own  employer,  or  I 
might  run  the  risk  of  being  discharged.  I  am  afraid 
the  excuse  that  I  was  at  Mrs.  Hoffman's  fashionable 
party  would  not  be  thought  sufficient.  I  guess  I  won't 
stop  to  shave  this  morning." 


THE    YOUNG   STREET  MUSICIAN.  1C7 

"  You  haven't  got  anything  to  sheave,"  said 
Jimmy. 

"Don't  be  envious,  Jimmy.  I  counted  several 
Lairs  this  morning.  "Well,  Phil,  arc  you  ready  to  go 
with  me?  Don't  forget  your  fiddle." 

"  When  shall  we  see  you  again,  Philip?  "  said  Mrs. 
Hoffman. 

u  I  do  not  know,"  said  the  little  minstrel. 

tk  Shall  you  not  come  to  the  city  sometimes?" 

"  I  am  afraid  the  padrone  would  catch  me,"  said 
Phil. 

"  Whenever  you  do  come,  Phil,"  said  Paul,  "  come 
right  to  me.  I  will  take  care  of  you.  I  don't  think 
the  padrone  will  carry  us  both  off,  and  he  would  have 
to  take  me  if  he  took  you." 

"  Good-by,  Philip,"  said  Mrs.  Hoffman,  offering 
her  hand.  "  I  hope  you  will  prosper." 

"  So  do  I,  Phil,"  said  Jimmy. 

Phil  thus  took  with  him  the  farewells  and  good 
wishes  of  two  friends  who  had  been  drawn  to  him  b}' 
his  attractive  face  and  good  qualities.  lie  could  not 
help  wishing  that  he  might  stay  with  them  per 
manently,  but  he  knew  that  this  could  not  be.  To 


1C8  P/7/Z,  THE  FIDDLER;  OT?, 

remain  in  the  same  city  with  the  padrone  was  out  of 
Che  question. 

Meanwhile  we  return  to  the  house  which  Phil  had 
forsaken,  and  inquire  what  effect  was  produced  by  his 
non-appearance. 

It  was  the  rule  of  the  establishment  that  all  the 
boys  should  be  back  by  midnight.  Phil  had  gen 
erally  returned  an  hour  before  that  time.  "When, 
therefore,  it  was  near  midnight,  the  padrone  looked 
uneasily  at  the  clock. 

"Have  you  seen  Filippo?"  he  asked,  addressing 
his  nephew. 

"  No,  signore,"  answered  Pictro.  "  Filippo  has 
not  come  in." 

"Doj'ou  think  he  has  run  away?"  asked  the  pa 
drone,  suspiciously. 

"  I  don't  know,"  said  Pietro. 

"  Have  you  any  reason  to  think  he  intended  to  run 
away?" 

"  No,"  said  Pietro. 

"  I  should  not  like  to  lose  him.  He  brings  me 
mote  money  than  most  of  the  boys." 

"  He  may  come  in  yet." 


T7TE    YOUNG   STREET  MUSICIAN.  1G9 

"When  he  docs,"  said  the  padrone,  frowning,  "I 
will  beat  him  for  being  so  late.  Is  there  any  boy 
that  lie  would  be  likely  to  tell,  if  he  meant  to  run 
away?" 

"  Yes,"  said  Pictro,  with  a  sudden  thought,  "  there 
is  Giacomo." 

"The  sick  boy?" 

"  Yes.  Filippo  went  in  this  morning  to  speak  to 
him.  He  might  have  told  him  then." 
"  That  is  truo.  I  will  go  and  ask  him." 
Giacomo  still  lay  upon  his  hard  pallet,  receiving 
very  little  attention.  His  fever  had  increased,  and 
he  was  quite  sick.  He  rolled  from  one  side  to  the 
other  in  his  restlessness.  He  needed  medical  atten 
tion,  but  the  padrone  was  indifferent,  and  none  of  the 
boys  would  have  dared  to  call  a  doctor  without  his 
permission.  As  he  lay  upon  his  bed,  the  padrone 
entered  the  room  with  a  hurried  step. 

"  Where  is  Giacomo?  "  he  demanded,  harshly. 
"  Here  I  am,  signore  padrone,"  answered  the  little 
boy,  trembling,  as  he  always  did  when  addressed  bv 
the  tyrant 


170  PJZ/Z,  THE  FIDDLER;  07?, 

"  Did  Filippo  come  and  speak  with  you  this  morn 
ing,  before  he  went  out  ?  " 
"  Si,  signore." 
"What  did  he  say?" 
"  He  asked  me  how  I  felt." 
"What  did  you  tell  him?" 
"  I  told  him  I  felt  sick." 
•'Nothing  more?" 

"  I  told  him  I  thought  I  should  die." 
"  Nonsense  !  "    said   the   padrone,  harshly  ;    "  you 
are  a  coward.     You  have   a  little    cold,  that  is  all. 
Did  he  say  anything  about  running  away  ?  " 
"  No,  signore." 

"  Don't  tell  me  a  lie  !  "  said  the  tyrant,  frowning. 
"  I  tell  you  the  truth,  signore  padrone.     Has  not 
Filippo  come  home  ?  " 
"  No." 

"  I  do  not  think  he  has  run  away,"  said  the  little 
boy. 

"Why  not?" 

"  I  think  he  would  tell  me." 

"  So  you  two  are  friends,  are  you?" 

"Si,  signore;  I  love  Filippo,"  answered  Giacomo, 


THE    YOUNG   STREET  MUSICIAN.  171 

speaking  the  last  words  tenderly,  and  rather  tc  him 
self  than  to  the  padrone.  He  looked  up  to  Phil, 
though  little  older  than  himself,  with  a  mixture  of 
respect  and  devotion,  leaning  upon  him  as  the  weak 
«re  prone  to  lean  upon  the  strong. 

"Then  you  will  be  glad  to  hear,"  said  the  padrone, 
with  a  refinement  of  cruelty,  "  that  I  shall  beat  him 
worse  than  last  night  for  staying  out  so  late." 

"Don't  beat  him,  padrone,"  pleaded  Giacomo, 
bursting  into  tears.  "Perhaps  he  cannot  com, 
home." 

"Did  he  ever  speak   to  you  of  running   away? 
asked  the  padrone,  with  a  sudden  thought. 

Giacomo  hesitated.  He  could  not  truthfully  deny 
that  Filippo  had  done  so,  but  he  did  not  want  to  get 
his  friend  into  trouble.  He  remained  silent,  looking 
up  at  the  tyrant  with  troubled  eyes. 

"  Wiry  do  you  not  speak?  Did  you  hear  my  ques 
tion?"  asked  the  padrone,  with  a  threatening  ges 
ture. 


Had  the  question  been  asked  of  some  of  the  other 
boys  present,  they  would  not  have  scrupled  to 
answer  falsely;  but  Giacomo  had  a  religious  nature, 


172  PHIL,  THE  FIDDLER;  OTJ, 

and,  neglected  as  lie  had  been,  he  could  not  make  np 
his  mind  to  tell  a  falsehood.  So,  after  a  pause,  ho 
faltered  out  a  confession  that  Phil  had  spoken  of 
flight. 

uDo  you  hear  that,  Pietro?"  said  the  padrone, 
turning  to  his  nephew.  "  The  little  wretch  has 
doubtless  run  away." 

u  Shall  I  look  for  him  to-morrow?"  asked  Pietro, 
with  alacrity ;  for  to  him  it  would  be  a  congenial 
task  to  drag  Phil  home,  and  witness  his  punishment. 

"Yes,  Pietro.  I  will  tell  you  where  to  go  in  the 
morning.  TVe  must  have  him  back,  and  I  will  beat 
him  so  that  he  will  not  dare  to  run  away  again." 

The  padrone  would  have  been  still  more  incensed, 
could  he  have  looked  into  Mrs.  Iloffinan's  room, 
and  seen  the  little  fiddler  the  centre  of  a  merry 
group,  his  brown  face  radiant  with  smiles  as  he  swept 
the  chords  of  his  violin.  It  was  well  for  Phil  that 
he  could  not  see  him 


THE    VOUNG   STREET  MUSICIAN  1*3 


CHAPTER    XVIII. 

PHIL    ELUDES   HIS    PURSUER. 

PHIL  bad  already  made  up  his  mind  where  to  go. 
Just  across  the  river  was  New  Jersey,  with  its  flourish 
ing  towns  and  cities,  settled  to  a  large  extent  by  men 
doing  business  in  New  York.  The  largest  of  these 
cities  was  Newark,  only  ten  miles  distant.  There 
Phil  decided  to  make  his  first  stop.  If  he  found  him 
self  in  danger  of  capture  he  could  easily  go  farther. 
This  plan  Paul  approved,  and  it  was  to  be  carried 
into  execution  immediate^. 

45  I  will  go  down  to  the  Cojirtlandt  Street  Ferry 
with  you,  Phil,"  said  Paul. 

"  I  should  like  to  have  you,  if  it  will  not  take  you 
from  your  business,  Paolo." 

4  My  business  can  wait,"  said  Paul.  "  I  mean  to 
see  you  safe  out  of  the  city.  The  padrone  may  be  in 
search  of  you  already." 


174  rniLj  THE  FIDDLER;  off, 

"  I  think  he  will  send  Pietro  to  find  me,"  said 
Phil. 

"Who  is  Pietro?" 

Phil  explained  that  Pietro  was  the  padrone's 
nephew  and  assistant  in  oppressing  the  boys. 

"  I  hope  he  will  send  him,"  said  Paul. 

Phil  looked  up  in  surprise. 

"  I  should  like  to  see  this  Pietro.  What  would  he 
do  if  he  should  find  you  ?  " 

"  He  would  take  me  back." 

•'  If  you  did  not  want  to  go?  " 

"  I  couldn't  help  it,"  said  Phil,  shrugging  his 
shoulders.  "  lie  is  much  bigger  than  I." 

"  Is  he  bigger  than  I  am?  " 

"  I  think  he  is  as  big." 

"  lie  isn't  big  enough  to  take  you  away  if  I  am 
with  you." 

Paul  did  not  say  this  boast  fulty,  but  with  a  quiet 
confidence  in  his  own  powers,  in  which  he  was  justi 
fied.  Though  by  no  means  quarrelsome,  he  had  on 
several  occasions  been  forced  in  self-defence  into  a 
contest  with  boys  of  his  own  size,  and  in  some 


THE    YOUNG    STREET  MUSICIAN1.  175 

instances  larger,  and  in  every  case  he  had  acquitted 
himself  manfully,  and  come  off  victorious. 

"  I  should  not  be  afraid  if  you  were  with  me, 
Paolo,"  said  Phil. 

"  You  are  right,  Phil,"  said  Paul,  approvingly. 
"But  here  we  are  at  the  ferry." 

Courtlandt  Street  is  a  short  distance  below  the 
Astor  House,  and  leads  to  a  ferry,  connecting  on  the 
other  side  with  trains  bound  for  Philadelphia  and 
intermediate  places. 

Paul  paid  the  regular  toll,  and  passed  through  the 
portal  with  Phil. 

"  Are  you  going  with  me?  "  asked  the  little  fiddler, 
in  surprise. 

"  Only  to  Jersey  City,  Phil.  There  might  be  some 
of  your  friends  on  board  the  boat.  I  want  to  see  you 
safe  on  the  cars.  Then  I  must  leave  you." 

"  You  arc  very  kind,  Paolo." 

"  You  are  a  good  little  chap,  Phil,  and  I  mean  to 
help  you.  But  the  boat  is  about  ready  to  start.  Let 
us  go  on  board." 

They  walked  down  the  pier,  and  got  on  the  boat  a 
minute  before  it  started.  They  did  not  pass  through 


176  PHIL,  THE  FIDDLER;  OT?, 

to  the  other  end,  but,  leaning  against  the  side,  kept 
their  eyes  fixed  on  the  city  they  were  about  to  leave. 
They  had  not  long  to  wait.  The  signal  was  heard, 
and  the  boat  started  leisurely  from  the  pier.  It  was 
bnt  ten  feet  distant,  when  the  attention  of  Paul  and 
Phil  was  drawn  to  a  person  running  down  the  drop 
in  great  haste.  He  evidently  wanted  to  catch  the 
boat,  but  was  too  late. 

Phil  clutched  at  Paul's  arm,  and  pointed  to  him  in 
evident  excitement. 

"  It  is  Pietro,"  he  said. 

At  that  moment  Pietro,  standing  on  the  brink, 
caught  sight  of  the  boy  he  was  pursuing,  looking 
back  at  him  from  the  deck  of  the  ferry-boat.  A  look 
of  exultation  and  disappointment  swept  over  his  face 
as  he  saw  Phil,  bnt  realized  that  he  was  out  of  his 
reach.  He  had  a  hand-organ  with  him,  and  this  had 
doubtless  encumbered  him,  and  prevented  his  run- 
ring  as  fast  as  he  might  otherwise. 

"So  that  is  Pietro,  is  it?"  said  Paul,  regarding 
him  attentively  in  order  to  fix  his  face  in  his 
memory. 

"  Yes.  Paolo,"  said  Phil,  his  eyes  fixed  nervously 


THE    YOUNG   STREET  MUSICIAN.  177 

upon  his  pursuer  who  maintained  his  place,  and  was 
watching  him  with  equal  attention. 

"  You  are  not  frightened,  Phil,  are  you?" 

Phil  admitted  that  he  was. 

"  He  will  come  over  in  the  next  boat,"  he  said. 

"  But  he  will  not  know  where  you  are." 

"  He  will  seek  me." 

"  Will  he?  Then  I  think  he  will  be  disappointed. 
The  cars  will  start  on  the  other  side  before  the  next 
boat  arrives.  I  found  out  about  that  before  we 
started." 

Phil  felt  relieved  by  this  intelligence,  but  still  he 
was  nervous.  Knowing  well  Pietro's  malice,  he 
dreaded  the  chances  of  his  capturing  him. 

"  He  stays  there.  He  does  not  go  away,"  said 
Phil. 

"  It  will  do  him  no  good,  Phil.  lie  is  like  a  cat 
watching  a  canary  bird  beyond  his  reach.  I  don't 
think  he  will  catch  you  to-da}T." 

"  He  may  go  in  the  cars  too,"  suggested  Phil. 

"  That  is  true.  On  the  whole,  Phil,  when  you  get 
to  Newark,  I  advise  you  to  walk  out  into  the  country. 
Don't  stay  in  the  city.  He  might  find  you  there." 


178  p/7/z,  THE  FIDDLER;  O.R, 

"  I  will  do  what  you  say,  Paolo.  It  will  oc  bet 
ter." 

The}7  soon  reached  the  Jersey  shore.  The  railroad 
station  was  close  by.  They  went  thither  at  once, 
and  Phil  bought  a  ticket  for  Newark. 

"  How  soon  will  the  cars  start  ?  "  inquired  Paul  ol 
a  railway  official. 

"  In  five  minutes,"  was  the  answer. 

"  Then,  Phil,  I  advise  you  to  get  into  the  cars  at 
once.  Take  a  seat  on  the  opposite  side,  though  there 
is  no  chance  of  your  being  seen  by  Pictro,  who  will 
get  here  too  late.  Still,  it  is  best  to  be  on  the  safe 
side.  I  will  stay  near  the  ferry,  and  watch  Pietro 
when  he  lands.  Perhaps  I  may  have  a  little  conver 
sation  with  him." 

"  I  will  go,  Paolo." 

"  Well,  good-by,  Phil,  and  good  luck,"  said  Paul, 
cheerfully.  "  If  you  ever  come  to  New  York,  come 
and  see  me." 

"  Yes,  Paolo,  I  will  be  sure  to  come." 

"  And,  Phil,  though  I  don't  think  you  will  ever  fall 
Into  the  power  of  that  old  brute  again  (I  am  sure  you 
won't  if  you  take  good  care  of  yourself),  still,  if  he 


THE    TOUXG    STRLET  HUSICIAX  179 

does  get  you  back  again,  come  to  me  the  first  chance 
you  get,  and  I  will  see  what  I  can  do  for  you." 

"  Thank  you,  Paolo.  I  will  remember  your  kind 
ness  always,"  said  the  little  jicMler,_grateful]y. 

44  That  is  all  right,  Phil.     Good-by  !  " 

"  Good-by !  "  said  Phil,  and  shaking  the  hand  of 
his  new  friend,  he  ascended  the  steps,  and  took  a 
seat  on  the  opposite  side,  as  Paul  had  recommended. 

u  I  am  sorry  to  part  with  Phil,"  said  Paul  to  him 
self.  "  lie's  a  fine  little  chap,  and  I  like  him.  If 
ever  that  old  brute  gets  hold  of  him  again,  he  shan't 
keep  him  long.  Now,  Signor  Pietro,  I'll  go  back 
and  see  you  on  your  arrival." 

Phil  was  right  in  supposing  that  Pietro  would  take 
passage  by  the  next  boat.  lie  waited  impatiently  on 
the  drop  till  it  touched,  and  sprang  on  board.  lie 
cursed  the  interval  of  delay,  fearing  that  it  would  give 
Phil  a  chance  to  get  away.  However,  there  was  no 
help  for  this.  Time  and  tide  wait  for  no  man,  but  it 
often  happens  that  we  are  compelled  to  wait  for 
them.  But  at  length  the  boat  touched  the  Jersey 
shore,  and  Pietro  sprang  out  and  hurried  to  the 
gates,  looking  eagerly  on  all  sides,  for  a  possible 


180  rniL,  THE  FIDDLER;  OR, 

glimpse  of  the  boy  lie  sought.  He  did  not  see  him, 
for  the  cars  were  already  on  their  way,  but  his  eyes 
lighted  up  with  satisfaction  as  they  lighted  on  Paul, 
whom  he  recognized  as  the  companion  of  Phil.  He 
had  seen  him  talking  to  the  little  fiddler.  Probably 
he  would  know  where  he  had  gone.  He  walked  up 
to  Paul,  who  was  standing  near,  and  touching  his 
cap,  said,  "  Excuse  me,  signore,  but  have  you  seen 
my  little  brother?" 

"  Your  little  brother?"  repeated  Paul,  deliberately. 

"  Si,  signore,  a  little  boy  with  a  fiddle.  lie  was  so 
high ;"  and  Pictro  indicated  the  height  of  Phil  cor 
rectly  by  his  hand. 

u  There  was  a  boy  came  over  in  the  boat  with  me," 
paid  Paul. 

"  Yes  ;  he  is  the  one,"  said  Pictro,  eagerly. 

"  And  he  is  your  brother?  " 

"  Si,  signore." 

"  That's  a  lie,"  thought  Paul,  "I  should  know  it, 
even  if  Phil  had  not  told  me.  Phil  is  a  handsome 
little  chap.  He  wouldn't  have  such  a  villanous-look 
ing  brother  as  you  " 


THE    YOUNG   STREET  MUSICIAN".  181 

"  Can  you  tell  me  where  be  has  gone?  "  asked  Pie- 
cro,  eagerly. 

"Didn't  he  tell  you  where  he  was  going?"  asked 
Paul,  in  turn. 

" 1  think   he  means   to   run  awaj","    said  Pietro. 

"  Did  3'ou  sec  where  he  went?  " 

"Why  should  he  want  to  run  away?  "  asked  Paul, 
who  enjoyed  tantalizing  Pietro,  who  he  saw  was 
chafing  with  impatience.  "  Did  }TOU  not  treat  him 
well?" 

"  He  is  a  little  rascal,"  said  Pietro.  "  He  is 
treated  well,  but  he  is  a  thief." 

"  And  you  are  his  brother,"  repeated  Paul,  signifi 
cant^. 

"  Did  you  see  where  he  went?"  asked  Pietro,  get 
ting  angry.  "  I  want  to  take  him  back  to  his 
father." 

"How  should  I  know?"  returned  Paul,  coolly. 
"  Do  you  think  I  have  nothing  to  do  but  to  look  after 
your  brother  ?  " 

"  Why  didn't  you  tell  me  that  before?"  said  Pie 
tro,  incensed. 

"Don't  get   mad,"    said   Paul,   indifferently;  "it 


182  PHIL,  THE  FIDDLER;  o/z, 

won't  do  you  any  good.  Perhaps  if  you  look  round 
you  will  sec  your  brother.  I'll  tell  him  you  want  him 
if  I  see  him." 

Pietro  looked  at  Paul  suspiciously.  It  struck 
him  that  the  latter  might  be  making  a  fool  of  him, 
but  Paul  looked  so  utterly  indifferent  that  he  could 
judge  nothing  from  his  appearance.  He  concluded 
that  Phil  was  wandering  about  somewhere  in  Jersey 
City.  It  did  not  occur  to  him  that  he  might  have 
taken  the  cars  for  some  more  distant  place.  At  any 
rate,  there  seemed  no  chance  of  getting  any  informa 
tion  out  of  Paul.  So  he  adjusted  his  hand-organ, 
and  walked  up  the  street  leading  from  the  ferry,  look 
ing  sharply  on  either  side,  hoping  to  catch  a  glimpse 
of  the  runaway ;  but,  of  course,  in  vain. 

"I  don't  think  you'll  find  Phil  to-day,  Signer 
Pietro,"  said-Phrl  to  himself,  as  he  watched  his  re 
ceding  form.  "  Now,  as  there  is  nothing  more  to  be 
done  here,  I  will  go  back  to  business." 


THE    YOUNG   STREET  MUSICIAN.  183 


CHAPTER    XIX. 

PIETRO'S    PURSUIT. 

THE  distance  from  New  York  to  Newark  is  but  ten 
miles.  Phil  had  been  there  once  before  with  an  older 
boy.  lie  was  at  no  loss  therefore  as  to  the  proper 
place  to  get  out.  He  stepped  from  the  cars,  and 
found  himself  in  a  large  depot.  He  went  out  of  a 
side  door,  and  began  to  wander  about  the  streets  of 
Newark.  Now,  for  the  first  time,  he  felt  that  he  was 
working  for  himself,  and  the  feeling  was  an  agree 
able  one.  True,  he  did  not  yet  feel  wholly  secure. 
Pietro  might  possibty  follow  in  the  next  train.  lie 
inquired  at  the  station  when  the  next  train  would 
arrive. 

"In  an  hour,"  was  the  reply. 

It  would  be  an  hour,  therefore,  before  Pietro  could 
reach  Newark.  He  decided  to  walk  on  without  stop- 
ping  till  he  reached  the  outskirts  of  the  city,  and  not 


184  PHIL,  THE  FIDDLE  n;  OR, 

venture  back  till  night-fall,  when  there  would  be  little 
or  no  danger. 

Accordingly  he  plodded  on  for  an  hour  and  a  half, 
till  he  came  where  the  houses  were  few  and  scattered 
at  intervals.  In  a  business  point  of  view,  this  was 
not  good  policy,  but  safet}^  was  to  be  consulted  first 
of  all.  lie  halted  at  length  before  a  grocery  store, 
in  front  of  which  he  saw  a  small  group  of  men  stand 
ing.  His  music  was  listened  to  with  attention,  but 
when  he  came  to  pass  his  cap  round  afterwards  the 
results  were  small.  In  fact,  to  be  precise,  the  collec 
tion  amounted  to  but  eight  cents. 

"How's  business,  boy?"  asked  a  young  man  who 
stood  at  the  door  in  his  shirt-sleeves,  and  was  evi 
dently  employed  in  the  grocery. 

"  That  is  all  I  have  taken,"  said  Phil,  showing  the 
eight  cents." 

"  Did  you  come  from  New  York  this  morning?  " 

«  Yes." 

"  Then  you  haven't  got  enough  to  pay  for  youi 
aoket  yet?" 

Phil  shrugged  his  shoulders. 


THE    YOUNG    STfiEET  MUSICIAN.  185 

"I  don't  believe  you'll  make  a  fortune  out 
here." 

Phil  was  of  the  same  opinion. 

"  You  would  have  done  better  to  stay  in  New 
fork." 

To  this  also  Phil  mentally  assented,  but  there  were 
imperative  reasons,  as  we  know,  for  leaving  the  great 
city. 

It  was  already  half-past  twelve,  and  Phil  began, 
after  his  walk,  to  feel  the  cravings  of  appetite.  He 
accordingly  went  into  the  grocery,  and  bought  some 
crackers  and  cheese,  which  he  sat  down  by  the  stove 
and  ate. 

"Are  you  going'  farther?"  asked  the  same  young 
man  who  had  questioned  him  before. 

"  I  shall  go  back  to  Newark  to-night,"  said  Phil. 

"  Let  me  try  your  violin." 

"Can  you  play?"  asked  Phil,  doubtfully,  for  Le 
feared  that  an  unpractised  player  might  injure  the 
instrument. 

"Yes,  I  can  play.  I've  got  a  fiddle  at  home  my 
self." 


18G  rniL)  THE  FIDDLER;  OK, 

Our  hero  surrendered  his  fiddle  to  the  young  man, 
who  played  passably. 

"  You've  got  a  pretty  good  fiddle,'  he  said.  "  I 
think  it's  better  than  mine.  Can  you  play  any  danc 
ing-tunes  ?  " 

Phil  knew  one  or  two  and  played  them. 

"  If  you  were  not  going  back  to  Newark,  I  should 
like  to  have  you  play  with  me  this  evening.  I  don't 
have  anybody  to  practise  with." 

"  I  would  not  know  where  to  sleep,"  said  Phil. 

"  Oh,  we've  got  beds  enough  in  our  house.  Will 
you  stay  ?  " 

Phil  reflected  that  he  had  no  place  to  sleep  in  New 
ark  except  such  as  he  might  hire,  and  decided  to 
accept  the  offer  of  his  new  friend. 

"  This  is  my  night  off  from  the  store,"  he  said.  I 
haven't  got  to  come  back  after  supper.  Just  stay 
around  here  till  six  o'clock.  Then  I'll  take  3rou 
home  and  give  you  some  supper,  and  then  we'll  play 
this  evening." 

Phil  had  no  objection  to  this  arrangement.  In  fact 
it  promised  to  be  an  agreeable  one  for  him.  As  he 
was  sure  of  a  supper,  a  bed,  and  breakfast,  there  was 


THE    YOUNG    STREET  MUSICIAN.  187 

MO  particular  necessity  for  him  to  earn  anything  more 
that  day.  However,  he  went  out  for  an  hour  or  two, 
and  succeeded  in  collecting  twenty-five  cents.  lie 
realized,  however,  that  it  was  not  so  easy  to  pick  up 
pennies  in  the  country  as  in  the  city,  —  partly  be 
cause  population  is  sparser,  and  partly  because 
though  there  is  less  privation  in  the  country  there  is 
also  less  money. 

A  little  before  six  Phil's  new  friend,  whose  name 
he  ascertained  was  Edwin  Grover,  washed  his  hands, 
and  putting  on  his  coat  said,  "  Come  along,  Phil." 

Phil,  who  had  been  sitting  near  the  stove,  prepared 
to  accompany  him. 

"  We  haven't  got  far  to  go,"  said  Edwin,  who  was 
eighteen.  "  I  am  glad  of  that,  for  the  sooner  I  get 
'A  the  supper-table  the  better." 

After  a  five  minutes'  walk,  they  stopped  at  a  com 
fortable  two-story  house  near  the  road-side. 

"  That's  where  I  put  up,"  said  Edwin. 

lie  opened  the  door,  and  entered,  followed  by  Phil, 
who  felt  a  little  bashful,  knowing  that  he  was  not 
expected. 

"Have  you  got  an  extra  plate,  mother?"   asked 


188  p/7/z,  THE  FIDDLER;  OT?, 

Edwin.  "  This  is  a  Professor  of  the  Violin,  who  is 
going  to  help  me  make  some  music  this  evening." 

"  He  is  welcome,"  said  Mrs.  Grover,  cheerfully 
4t  We  can  make  room  for  him.  He  is  an  Italian,  I 
suppose.  What  is  your  name?  " 

"  Filippo." 

"  I  will  call  you  Philip.  I  suppose  that  is  the 
English  name.  Will  you  lay  down  your  violin,  ana 
draw  up  to  the  fire?" 

"  I  am  not  cold,"  said  Phil. 

"He  is  not  cold,  he  is  hungry,  a.»  Ollendorf  sa}^s," 
said  Edwin,  who  had  written  a  £°v  F;xjnch  exercises 
according  to  Ollendorfs  system.  "Is  wnpcr  almost 
ready?" 

"  It  will  be  ready  at  once.  There  is  your  father 
coming  in  at  the  front  gate,  and  Homy  witt  Ir'rn.' 

Mr.  Grover  entered,  and  Phil  made  the  acquaint 
ance  of  the  rest  of  the  family.  He  soon  came  to  feel 
that  he  was  a  welcome  guest,  and  shared  in  the  family 
supper,  which  was  well  cooked  and  palatable.  Then 
Edwin  brought  out  his  fiddle,  and  the  two  played 
various  tunes.  Phil  caught  one  or  two  new  dancing- 
tunes  from  his  new  friend,  and  in  return  taught  him 


THE    YOUNG   STREET  MUSICIAN.  189 

an  Italian  air.  Three  or  four  people  from  a  neigh 
boring  family  came  in,  and  a  little  impromptu  dance 
was  got  up.  So  the  evening  passed  pleasantly, 
and  at  half-past  ten  they  went  to  bed,  Phil  sleeping 
in  a  little  room  adjoining  that  in  which  the  brothers 
Edwin  and  Henry  slept. 

After  breakfast  the  next  morning  Phil  left  the 
house,  with  a  cordial  invitation  to  call  again  when  he 
happened  to  be  passing. 

Before  proceeding  with  his  adventures,  we  must  go 
back  to  Pietro.  He,  as  we  know,  failed  to  elicit  any 
information  from  Paul,  likely  to  guide  him  in  his  pur 
suit  of  Phil.  He  was  disappointed.  Still  he  re 
flected  that  Phil  had  but  a  quarter  of  an  hour's  start 
of  him,  —  scarcely  that  indeed,  —  and  if  he  stopped 
to  play  anywhere,  he  would  doubtless  easily  find  him. 
There  was  danger,  of  course,  that  he  would  turn  off 
somewhere,  and  Pietro  judged  it  best  to  inquire 
whether  such  a  boy  had  passed. 

Seeing  two  boys  playing  in  the  street,  he  inquired, 
"  Have  you  seen  anything  of  my  little  brother?  " 

"  What  does  he  look  like  ?  "  inquired  one. 


190  rniL,  THE  FIDDLER;  OR, 

"  He  is  not  quite  so  large  as  }^ou.  lie  had  a  fiddle 
with  him." 

"  No,  I  haven't  seen  him.     Have  }rou,  Dick?  " 

"  Yes,"  said  the  other,  "  there  was  a  boy  went  along 
Kith  a  fiddle.' 

This  was  true,  but,  as  we  know,  it  was  not  Phil. 

"Did  you  see  where  he  went?"  demanded  Pietro, 
eagerly. 

"  Straight  ahead,"  was  the  reply 

Lured  by  the  delusive  hope  these  words  awakened, 
Pietro  went  on.  He  did  not  stop  to  play  on  his  organ. 
He  was  too  intent  on  finding  Phil.  At  length,  at  a 
little  distance  before  him,  he  saw  a  figure  about  the 
size  of  Phil,  playing  on  the  violin.  He  hurried 
forward  elated,  but  when  within  a  few  rods,  he  dis 
covered,  to  his  disappointment,  that  it  was  not  Phil, 
but  a  little  fiddler  of  about  his  size.  He  was  in  the 
employ  of  a  different  padrone.  He  was  doubtless  the 
one  the  boy  had  seen. 

Disappointed,  Pietro  now  turned  back,  and  bent 
his  steps  to  the  ferry.  But  he  saw  nothing  of  Phil  on 
the  way. 

44 1  would  like  to  beat  him,  the  little  wretch ! "  he 


THE    YOUNG   STREET  MUSIC*. AN.  191 

said  to  himself  angrily.  "If  I  had  not  been  too  late 
for  11  ic  boat,  I  would  have  caught  him." 

It  never  occurred  to  Pietro  that  Phil  might  have 
taken  the  cars  for  a  more  distant  point,  as  he  actually 
did..  The  only  thing  he  could  think  of,  for  he  was 
not  willing  o  give  up  the  pursuit,  was  to  go  back. 
He  remained  in  Jersey  City  all  day,  wandering  about 
the  streets,  peering  here  and  there ;  but  he  did  not 
find  Phil,  for  a  very  good  reason. 

The  padrone  awaited  his  report  at  night  with  some 
impatience.  Phil  was  one  of  the  smartest  boys  he 
had,  and  he  had  no  mind  to  lose  him. 

"  Did  you  find  him,  Pietro?"  he  asked,  as  soon  as 
his  nephew  entered  his  presence. 

"  I  saw  him,"  said  Pietro. 

"  Then  why  did  you  not  bring  him  back?  " 

Pietro  explained  the  reason.  His  uncle  listened 
attentively. 

"Pietro,  you  arc  a  fool,"  he  said  at  length. 

"  Why  am  I  a  fool?"  asked  Pietro,    sullenly. 

"  Because  you  sought  Filippo  where  he  is  not." 

"Where  is  he?" 

"  He  did  not  stop  in  Jersey  City.   lie  went  farther. 


192  PHIL,  THE  FIDDLER;  <XR, 

He  knew  that  you  were  on  his  track.  Did  you  ask  at 
the  station  if  such  a  boy  had  bought  a  ticket?" 

"  I  did  not  think  of  it." 

"  Then  you  were  a  fool." 

"  "What  do  you  want  me  to  do  ?  " 

"  To-morrow  you  must  go  to  Newark.  That  is  the 
first  large  town.  I  must  have  Filippo  back." 

"I  will  go,"  said  Pietro,  briefly. 

He  was  mortified  at  the  name  applied  to  him  by  hia 
uncle,  as  well  as  by  the  fact  of  Phil's  having  thus  far 
outwitted  him.  lie  secretly  determined  that  when  he 
did  get  him  into  his  power,  he  would  revenge  himself 
for  all  the  trouble  to  which  he  had  been  put,  and 
there  was  little  doubt  that  he  would  keep  his  word. 


THK    YOUNG    STREET  MUSICIAN.  193 


CHAPTER  XX. 

PIETRO'S    DISAPPOINTMENT. 

THOUGH  Phil  had  not  taken  in  much  money  during 
the  first  day  of  independence,  he  had  more  than  paid 
his  expenses.  He  started  on  the  second  day  with  a 
good  breakfast,  and  good  spirits.  He  determined  to 
walk  back  to  Newark,  where  he  might  expect  to  col 
lect  more  money  than  in  the  suburbs.  If  he  should 
meet  Pietro  he  determined  not  to  yield  without  a 
struggle.  But  he  felt  better  now  than  at  first,  and 
less  afraid  of  the  padrone. 

Nine  o'clock  found  him  again  in  Newark.  He  soon 
came  to  a  halt,  and  began  to  play.  A  few  paused  to 
listen,  but  their  interest  in  music  did  not  extend  so 
far  as  to  affect  their  pockets.  Phil  passed  around  his 
bat  in  vain.  He  found  himself  likely  to  go  unre 
warded  for  his  labor.  But  just  then  he  noticed  a 
carriage  with  open  door,  waiting  in  front  of  a  fash 
ionable  dry  goods  store.  Two  ladies  had  just  come 


194  r.aiL,  THE  FIDDLER;  o/z, 

out  and  taken  their  seats  preparatory  to  driving  off, 
when  Phil  stepped  up  bare-headed  and  held  his  cap. 
He  was  an  unusually  attractive  bo}^,  and  as  he  smiled 
ono  of  the  ladies,  who  was  particularly  fond  of  chil 
dren,  noticed  him. 

"  What  a  handsome  boy ! "  she  said  to  her  com 
panion. 

"  Some  pennies  for  music,"  said  Phil. 

"  How  old  are  you?"  asked  the  lady. 

"  Twelve  years." 


"  Just  the  age  of  my  Johnny.  If  I  give  you  some 
money  what  will  you  do  with  it  ?  " 

"  I  will  buy  dinner,"  said  Phil. 

"  I  never  give  to  vagrants,"  said  the  second  lady, 
a  spinster  of  uncertain  age,  who  did  not  share  her 
n/ece's  partiality  for  children. 

"  It  isn't  his  fault  if  he  is  a  vagrant,  Aunt  Maria," 

7F 

said  the  younger  lady. 

"  I  have  no  doubt  he  is  a  thief,"  continued  Aunt 
Maria,  with  acerbity. 

"  I  am  not  a  thief,"  said  Phil,  indignantly,  for  he 
understood  very  well  the  imputation,  and  he  replaced 
his  cap  on  his  head- 


THE    YOUX<3   STREET  MUSICIAN.  195 

"I  don't  believe  you  are,"  said  the  first  lady; 
"  here,  take  this,"  and  she  put  in  his  hand  twenty- 
five  cents. 

"Thank  you,  signora,"  said  Phil,  with  a  grateful 
smile. 

"  That  money  is  thrown  awa}r,"  said  the  elder 
lady;  "you  are  very  indiscriminate  in  your  charity, 
Eleanor." 

"  It  is  better  to  give  too  much  than  too  little.  Aunt 
Maria,  isn't  it?!L 

"You  shouldn't  give  to  unworthy  objects." 

"  How  do  you  know  this  boy  is  an  unworthy 
object?" 

"  He  is  a  }Toung  vagrant." 

"Can  he  help  it?  It  is  the  way  he  makes  his 
living." 


The  discussion  continued,  but  Phil  did  not  stop  to 
near  it.  He  had  received  more  than  he  expected, 
and  now  felt  ready  to  continue  his  business.  One 
thing  was  fortunate,  and  relieved  him  from  the 
anxiety  which  he  had  formerly  labored  under.  lie 
was  not  ol  liged  to  obtain  a  certain  sum  in  order  to 
escape  a  beating  at  night.  He  had  no  master  to  ao 


196  p/z/z,  THE  FIDDLER;  ojj, 

count  to.  He  was  his  own  employer,  as  long  as  he 
kept  out  of  the  clutches  of  the  padrone. 

Phil  continued  to  roam  about  the  streets  very  much 
after  the  old  fashion,  playing  here  and  there  as  he 
thought  it  expedient.  By  noon  he  had  picked  up 
BC'venty-five  cents,  and  felt  very  well  satisfied  with 
his  success.  But  if,  as  we  are  told,  the  hour  that  is 
darkest  is  just  before  day,  it  also  happens  sometimes 
that  danger  lies  in  wait  for  prosperity,  and  danger 
menaced  our  young  hero,  though  he  did  not  know  it. 
To  explain  this,  we  must  go  back  a  little. 

When  Pietro  prepared  to  leave  the  lodging-house 
In  the  morning,  the  padrone  called  him. 

"  Pietro,"  said  he,  "you  must  find  Filippo  to 
day." 

"  Where  shall  I  go?"  asked  Pietro. 

"Go  to  Newark.  Filippo  went  there,  no  doubt, 
while  you,  stupid  that  you  are,  were  looking  for  him 
hi  Jersey  City.  You  have  been  in  Newark  before?  " 

"  Yes,  signore  padrone." 

"  Very  good  ;  then  you  need  no  directions." 

"If  I  do  not  find  him  in  Newark,  where  shall  I 
go?v' 


THE    YOUNG    STREET  MUSICIAN.  197 

"  He  is  in  Newark,"  said  the  padrone,  confidently. 
w  He  will  not  leave  it." 

He  judged  that  Phil  would  consider  himself  safe 
there,  and  would  prefer  to  remain  in  a  city  rathei 
than  go  into  the  country. 

"  I  will  do  my  best,"  said  Pietro. 

"  I  expect  you  to  bring  him  back  to-night." 

"  I  should  like  to  do  so,"  said  Pietro,  and  he  spoke 
the  truth.  Apart  from  his  natural  tendency  to  play 
the  tyrant  over  smaller  bo}Ts,  he  felt  a  personal 
grudge  against  Phil  for  ending  him  the  day  before, 
and  so  subjecting  him  to  the  trouble  of  another  day's 
pursuit  besides  the  mortification  of  incurring  a  rep 
rimand  from  his  uncle.  Never  did  agent  accept  a 
commission  more  readily  than  Pietro  accepted  that 
of  catching  and  bringing  back  Filippo  to  the 
padrone. 

Leaving  the  lodging-house  he  walked  down  to  the 
ferry  at  the  foot  of  CojrfrtlandTstreet,  and  took  the 
first  train  for  Newark.  It  was  ten  o'clock  before  he 
reached  the  city.  He  had  nothing  in  particular  to 
guide  him,  but  made  up  his  mind  to  wander  about  all 
day,  inquiring  from  time  to  time  if  any  one  had  seen 


198  P/Z7Z,    THE   flDDLER;    OK, 

his  little  brother,  describing  Phil.  After  a  while  his 
inquiries  were  answered  in  the  affirmative,  and  he 
gradually  got  on  the  track  of  our  hero. 

At  twelve  o'clock  Phil  went  into  a  restaurant,  and 
Invested  thirty  cents  in  a  dinner.  As  the  prices  were 
low,  he  obtained  for  this  sum  all  he  desired.  Ten 
minutes  afterwards,  as  he  was  walking  leisurely  along 
with  that  feeling  of  tranquil  enjoyment  which  a  full 
stomach  is  apt  to  give,  Pietro  turned  the  corner  be 
hind  him.  No  sooner  did  the  organ-grinder  catch 
sight  of  his  prey,  than  a  fierce  joy  lighted  up  his 
eyes,  and  he  quickened  his  pace. 

"Ah,  scelerato,  I  have  you  now,"  he  exclaimed  to 
himself.  "  To-night  you  shall  feel  the  stick." 

But  opportunely  for  himself  Phil  looked  behind 
him.  When  he  saw  Pietro  at  but  a  few  rods'  distance 
ins  heart  stood  still  with  sudden  fright,  and  for  an  in 
stant  his  feet  were  rooted  to  the  ground.  Then  the 
thought  of  escape  came  to  him,  and  he  began  to  run, 
not  too  soon. 

u  Stop  !  "  called  out  Pietro.  "  Stop,  or  I  will  kill 
you ! " 

But  Phil   did  not  compreher.d   the  advantage   of 


THE    TOUNQ    STREET  MUSICIAN.  199 

surrendering  himself  to  Pietro.  He  understood  too 
well  how  he  would  be  treated,  if  he  returned  a 
prisoner.  Instead  of  obeying  the  call,  he  only  sped 
on  the  faster.  Now  between  the  pursuer  and  the 
pursued  there  was  a  difference  of  six  years,  Pietro 
being  eighteen,  while  Phil  was  but  twelve.  This,  of 
course,  was  in  Pietro's  favor.  On  the  other  hand, 
the  pursuer  was  encumbered  by  a  hand-organ,  which 
retarded  his  progress,  while  Phil  had  only  a  violin, 
which  did  not  delay  him  at  all.  This  made  their  speed 
about  equal,  and  gave  Phil  a  chance  to  escape,  unless 
he  should  meet  with  some  interruption. 

"  Stop !  "  called  Pietro,  furiously,  beginning  to 
realize  that  the  victory  was  not  yet  won. 

Phil  looked  over  his  shoulder,  and,  seeing  that 
Pietro  was  no  nearer,  took  fresh  courage.  He  darted 
round  a  corner  with  his  pursuer  half  a  dozen  rods  be 
hind  him.  They  were  not  in  the  most  frequented 
parts  of  the  city,  but  in  a  quarter  occupied  by  two- 
story  wooden  houses.  Seeing  a  front  dcor  open, 
Phil,  with  a  sudden  impulse,  ran  hastily  in,  closing 
the  door  behind  him. 

A  woman  with  her  sleeves  rolled  up,  who  appeared 


200  PHIL,  THE  FIDDLER;  OR, 

to  have  taken  them  from  the  tub,  hearing  his  steps, 
came  out  from  the  back  room. 

4'  What  do  ye  want?"  she  demanded,  suspiciously. 
"  Save  me  !  "   cried  Phil,   out  of  breath.     "  Some 
one  is  chasing  me.     He  is  bad.     He  will  beat  me." 

The  woman's  s}rmpathies  were  quickly  enlisted. 
She  had  a  warm  heart,  and  was  always  ready  to  give 
aid  to  the  oppressed. 

"  Whist,  darlint,  run  upstairs,  and  hide  under  the 
bed.  I'll  send  him  off  wid  a  flea  in  his  ear,  whoever 
he  is." 

Phil  was  quick  to  take  a  hint.  He  ran  upstairs, 
and  concealed  himself  as  directed.  While  he  was 
doing  it,  the  lower  door,  which  he  had  shut,  was 
opened  by  Pietrp.  He  was  about  to  rush  into  the 
house,  but  the  muscular  form  of  Phil's  friend  stood 
in  the  way. 

"  Out  wid  ye  I  "  said  she,  flourishing  a  broom, 
which  she  had  snatched  up.  "  Is  that  the  way  you 
inter  a  dacint  woman's  house,  ye  spalpeen !  " 

"I  want  iny  brother/'  said  Pietro,  drawing  back  a 
little  before  the  amazon  who  disputed  his  passage. 


THE    YOUNG    STREET  MUSICIAN.  201 

"Go  and  find  him,  thin !"  said  Bridget  McG  nire, 
"  and  kape  out  of  in}''  house." 

"  But  lie  is  here,"  said  Pietro,  angrily.  "  I  saw 
him  come  in." 

"  Then,  one  of  the  family  is  enough,"  said  Bridget, 
"  I  don't  want  another.  Lave  here  wid  you  !  " 

u  Give  me  my  brother,  then ! "  said  Pietro,  pro 
voked. 

"  I  don't  know  an}7thing  of  your  brother.  If  he 
looks  like  you,  he's  a  beauty,  sure,"  returned  Mrs 
McGuire. 

"  Will  you  let  me  look  for  him  ?  " 

"  Faith,  and  I  won't.  You  may  call  him  if  you 
plase." 

Pietro  knew  that  this  would  do  >rery  little  good, 
but  there  seemed  nothing  else  to  do. 

"  Filippo  !  "  he  called.  "  Come  here.  The  pa 
drone  has  sent  for  you." 

"What  was  ye  sayin'?"  demanded  Bridget,  not 
comprehending  the  Italian. 

"  I  told  my  brother  to  come." 

"  Then  you  can  go  out  and  wait  for  him,"  said  she, 
"  I  don't  want  you  in  the  house." 


202  PHIL,  THE  FIDDLER;  OR, 

Pictro  was  very  angry.  He  suspected  that  Phil 
was  in  the  rear  room,  and  was  anxious  to  search  for 
him.  But  Bridget  McGuire  was  in  the  way,  —  no 
light,  delicate  woman,  but  at  least  forty  pounds  heavier 
than  Pietro.  Moreover,  she  was  armed  with  a  broom, 
and  seemed  quite  ready  to  use  it.  Phil  was  fortunate 
in  obtaining  so  able  a  protector.  Pietro  looked  at 
her,  and  had  a  vague  thought  of  running  by  her,  and 
dragging  out  Phil  if  he  found  him.  But  Bridget  was 
planted  so  squarely  in  his  path  that  this  course  did 
not  seem  very  practicable. 

"Will  you  give  me  my  brother?"  demanded 
Pietro,  forced  to  use  words  where  he  would  willingly 
have  used  blows. 

"  I  haven't  got  your  brother." 

"  lie  is  in  this  house." 

"  Thin  he  may  stay  here,  but  you  shan't,"  said 
Bridget,  and  she  made  a  sudden  demonstration  with 
the  broom,  of  so  threatening  a  character  that  Pietro 
hastily  backed  out  of  the  house,  and  the  door  was 
instantly  bolted  in  his  face. 


THE    YOUNG   STREET  MUSICIAN.  203 


CHAPTER    XXI. 

THE    SIEGE. 

WHEN  the  enemy  had  fairly  been  driven  out  of  the 
bouse  Mrs.  McGuire  went  upstairs  in  search  of  Phil. 
Our  hero  had  come  out  from  his  place  of  concealment, 
and  stood  at  the  window. 

"Where  is  Pietro?"  he  asked,  as  his  hostess 
appeared  in  the  chamber. 

"  I  druv  him  out  of  the  house,"  said  Bridget, 
triumphantly. 

"Then  he  won't  come  up  here?"  interrogated 
Phil. 

"  It's  I  that  would  like  to  see  him  thry  it,"  said 
Mrs.  McGuire,  shaking  her  head  in  a  very  positive 
manner.  "  FJ  break  my  broom  over  his  back  first." 

Phil  breathed  freer,  lie  saw  that  he  was  rescued 
from  immediate  clanger. 

"Where  is  he  now?" 


204  rniL,  THE  FIDDLER;  w*, 

"  lie's  outside  watching  for  you.  He'll  have  to 
wait  till  you  come  out." 

"  May  I  stay  here  till  he  goes?  " 

"  Sure,  and  you  may,"  said  the  warm-hearted 
Irish- woman.  "  You're  as  welcome  as  flowers  in 
May.  Are  you  hungry  ?  " 

"  No,  thank  you,"  said  Phil.  "  I  have  eaten  my 
dinner." 

"  Won't  you  thry  a  bit  of  bread  and  cold  mate 
now?"  she  asked,  hospitably. 

"  You  are  very  kind,"  said  Phil,  gratefully,  "  but 
I  am  not  hungry.  I  only  want  to  get  away  from 
Pietro." 

"  Is  that  the  haythen's  name?  Sure  I  niver  heard 
it  before." 

"  It  is  Peter  in  English." 

"  And  has  he  got  the  name  of  the  blessed  St. 
Peter  thin.  Sure  St.  Peter  would  be  ashamed  of 
him.  And  is  he  your  brother?" 

"  No,"  said  Phil. 

"  He  said  he  was ;  but  I  thought  it  was  a  wicked 
lie  when  he  said  it.  He's  too  bad,  sure,  tc  be  a 
brother  of  yours.  But  I  must  go  down  to  my  work 


THE    YOUNG   STREET  MUSICIAN.  205 

My  clothes  is  in  the  tub,  and  the  water  will  get 
cold." 

"  Will  you  be  kind  enough  to  tell  me  when  he  goes 
away?"  asked  Phil. 

"  Sure  I  will.  Rest  aisy,  daiiint.  He  shan't  get 
hold  of  you" 

Pictro's  disappointment  may  be  imagined  when  he 
found  that  the  victim  whom  he  already  considered  in 
his  grasp  was  snatched  from  him  in  the  very  moment 
of  his  triumph.  He  felt  nearly  as  much  incensed  at 
Mrs.  McGuire  as  at  Phil,  but  against  the  former  he 
had  no  remedy.  Over  the  stalwart  Irish-woman  neither 
he  nor  the  padrone  had  any  jurisdiction,  and  he  was 
compelled  to  own  himself  ignominiously  repulsed  and 
baffled.  Still  all  was  not  lost.  Phil  must  come  out 
of  the  house  some  time,  and  when  he  did  he  would 
capture  him.  When  that  happy  moment  arrived  he 
resolved  to  inflict  a  little  punishment  on  our  hero  on 
his  own  account,  in  anticipation  of  that  which  awaited 
him  from  his  uncle,  the  padrone.  He  therefore  took 
his  position  in  front  of  the  house,  and  maintained  a 
careful  watch,  that  Phil  might  not  escape  unol> 
served. 


206  P/7/X,  TJIE  FIDDLER;  OM, 

So  half  an  hour  passed.  He  could  hear  no  noise 
inside  the  house,  nor  did  Phil  show  himself  at  any 
of  the  windows.  Pietro  was  distiixbed  by  a  sudden 
suspicion.  What  if,  while  he  was  watching,  Phil 
had  escaped  by  the  back  door,  and  was  already  at  a 
distance !  This  would  be  quite  possible,  for  as  he 
stood  he  could  only  watch  the  front  of  the  house. 
The  rear  was  hidden  from  his  view.  Made  uneasy 
by  this  thought,  he  shifted  his  ground,  and  crept 
stealthily  round  on  the  side,  in  the  hope  of  catching 
a  view  of  Phil,  or  perhaps  hearing  some  conversation 
between  him  and  his  Amazonian  protector  by  which 
he  might  set  at  rest  his  suddenly  formed  suspicions. 

He  was  wrong,  however.  Phil  wa-s  still  upstairs. 
He  was  disposed  to  be  cautious,  and  did  not  mean  to 
leave  his  present  place  of  security  until  he  should  be 
apprised  by  his  hostess  that  Pietro  had  gone. 

Bridget  McGuire  kept  on  with  her  washing.  She 
had  been  once  to  the  front  room,  and,  looking  through 
the  blinds,  had  ascertained  that  Pietro  was  still 
there. 

*'  He'll  have  to  wait  long  enough,"  she  said  to  her- 


THE    YOUNG    STREET  MUSICIAN.  207 

self,  "  the  hay  then  !     It's  hard  he'll  find  it  to  get  the 
better  of  Bridget  McGuire." 

She  was  still  at  her  tub  when  through  the  opposite 
window  on  the  side  of  the  house  she  caught  sight  of 
Pietro  creeping  stealthily  along,  as  we  have  de 
scribed. 

"  I'll  be  even  wid  him,"  said  Bridget  to  herself 
exultingly.  "  I'll  tache  him  to  prowl  round  my 
house." 

She  took  from  the  sink  near  by  a  large,  long- 
handled  tin  dipper,  and  filled  it  full  of  warm  sud3 
from  the  tub.  Then  stealing  to  the  window,  she 
opened  it  suddenly,  and  as  Pietro  looked  up,  suddenly  - 
launched  the  contents  in  his  face,  calling  forth  a  vol 
ley  of  imprecations,  which  I  would  rather  not  transfer 
to  my  page.  Being  in  Italian,  Bridget  did  not 
exactly  understand  their  meaning,  but  guessed  it. 

"'Is  it  there  ye  are?"  she  said,  in  affected  sur 
prise. 

"  Why  did  you  do  that?  "  demanded  Pietro,  finding 
enough  English  to  express  his  indignation. 

"Why  did  I  do  it?"  repeated  Bridget.  "  How 
would  I  know  that  you  were  crapin'  under  my  windy? 


208  PHIL,  THE  FIDDLER;  OK, 

It  serves    you  right   anyhow.      I   don't   want    you 
here." 

"  Send  out  my  brother,  then,"  said  Pietro. 

"  There's  no  brother  of  yours  inside,"  said  Mrs. 
McQuire. 

"  It's  a  lie  !"  said  Pietro,  angrily  stamping  his  foot. 

"  Do  you  want  it  ag'in?"  asked  Bridget,  filling  her 
dipper  once  more  from  the  tub,  causing  Pietro  to 
withdraw  hastily  to  a  greater  distance.  "  Don't  you 
tell  Bridget  McGuire  that  she  lies." 

"  My  brother  is  in  the  house,"  reiterated  Pietro, 
doggedly. 

kk  He  is  no  brother  of  yours,  —  he  says  so." 

"  He  lies,"  said  Pietro. 

"  Shure  and  it's  somebody  else  lies,  I'm  thinkin'," 
naid  Bridget. 

"  Is  he  in  the  house?"  demanded  Pietro,  finding  it 
.difficult  to  argue  with  Phil's  protector. 

"  I  don't  see  him,"  said  Bridget,  shrewdly,  turning 
*nd  glancing  round  the  room. 

"  I'll  call  the  police,"  said  Pietro,  trying  to  intim 
idate  his  adversary. 

"  I  wish  you  would,"  she  answered  promptly.     "  It 


THE    YOUXO    STREET   MUSICIAN.  209 

would  save  me  the  trouble.  I'll  make  a  charge  ag'inst 
you  for  thryin'  to  break  in  to  my  bouse ;  maybe  you 
want  to  stale  something." 

Pietro  was  getting  disgusted.  Mrs.  McGuire  proved 
more  unmanageable  than  he  anticipated.  It  was  tan 
talizing  to  think  that  Phil  was  so  near  him,  and  yet 
out  of  his  reach.  He  anathematized  Phil's  protector 
in  his  heart,  and  I  am  afraid  it  would  have  gone  hard 
with  her  if  he  could  have  had  his  wishes  fulfilled.  He 
was  not  troubled  to  think  what  next  to  say,  for 
Bridget  suddenly  terminated  the  interview,  by  shut 
ting  down  the  window  with  the  remark,  "  Go  away 
from  here  !  I  don't  want  you  lookin'  in  at  my  windy." 

Pfetro  did  not,  however,  go  away  immediately.  Ho 
moved  a  little  further  to  the  rear,  having  a  suspicion 
that  Phil  might  escape  from  the  door  at  the  back. 
While  he  was  watching  here,  he  suddenly  heard  the 
front  door  open,  and  shut  with  a  loud  sound.  He  ran 
to  the  front,  thinking  that  Phil  might  be  taking  flight 
from  the  street  door,  but  it  was  only  a  ruse  of  Mrs. 
McGuire,  who  rather  enjoyed  tantalizing  Pietro.  He 
looked  carefully  up  and  down  the  street,  but,  seeing 
nothing  of  Phil,  he  concluded  he  must  still  be  inside 


210  P/77Z,    THE   FIDDLEJt;    O7?, 

He  therefore  resumed  his  watch,  but  in  some  perplex 
ity  as  to  where  he  ought  to  stand,  in  order  to  watch 
both  the  front  and  rear.  Phil  occasionally  looked 
guardedly  from  the  window  in  the  second  story,  and 
saw  his  enemy,  but  knew  that  as  long  as  he  remained 
indoors  he  was  safe.  It  was  not  very  agreeable 
remaining  in  the  chamber  alone,  but  it  was  a  great 
deal  better  than  falling  into  the  clutches  of  Pietro, 
and  he  felt  fortunate  to  have  found  so  secure  a  place 
of  refuge. 

Pietro  finally  posted  himself  at  the  side  of  the 
house,  where  he  could  command  a  view  of  both  front 
and  rear,  and  there  maintained  his  stand  nearly 
underneath  the  window  at  which  his  intended  prisoner 
was  standing. 

As  Phil  was  watching  him,  suddenly  he  heard  steps, 
and  Bridget  McGuire  entered  the  chamber.  She 
bore  in  her  hand  the  same  tin  dipper  before  noticed, 
filled  with  steaming  hot  water.  Phil  regarded  her 
with  some  surprise. 

"Would  you  like  to  see  some  fun  now?"  she 
asked,  her  face  covered  by  a  broad  smile. 

"  Yes,"  said  Phil. 


THE    YOUNG   STREET  MUSICIAN.  21i 

"  Open  the  windy,  then,  aisy  now,  so  he  won't 
hear." 

Phil  obeyed  directions,  and  managed  not  to 
attract  the  attention  of  his  besieger  below,  who 
chanced  at  the  moment  to  be  looking  towards  the 
door  in  the  rear. 

"  Now,"  said  Bridget,  "  take  this  clipper  and  give 
him  the  binifit  of  it." 

Phil  took  the  idea  at  once,  and  the  dipper  at  the 
same  time. 

"  Don't  let  him  see  you  do  it,"  cautioned  his  pro 
tector. 

Phil,  holding  the  dipper  carefully,  discharged  the 
contents  with  such  good  aim  that  they  drenched  the 
watching  Pietro.  The  water  being  pretty  hot,  a  howl 
of  pain  and  rage  rose  from  below,  and  Pietro  danced 
about  frantically.  Looking  up,  he  saw  no  one,  for 
Phil  had  followed  directions  and  drawn  his  head  in 
immediately.  But  Mrs.  McGuire,  less  cautious, 
looked  out  directly  afterwards. 

4 'Will  ye  go  now,  or  will  ye  stand  jist  where  I 
throw  the  hot  wather  ?  " 

In  reply,  Pietro  indulged  in  some  rather  emphatic 


£12  PHIL,  THE  FIDDLER;  on, 

language,  but  being  in  the  Italian  language,  in  which 
he  was  more  fluent,  they  fell  unregarded  upon  the 
ears  of  Mrs.  McGuire. 

"  I  told  you  to  go,"  she  said.  u  I've  got  some 
more  wather  inside." 

Pietro  stepped  baek  in  alarm.  lie  had  no  disposi 
tion  to  take  another  warm  shower-bath,  and  he  had 
found  out  to  his  cost  that  Bridget  McGuire  was  not  a 
timid  woman,  or  easily  frightened. 

But  he  had  not  yet  abandoned  the  siege.  He 
shifted  his  ground  to  the  front  of  the  house,  and  took 
a  position  commanding  a  view  of  the  front  door. 


TffS    TOUNG   STREET  MUSICIAN.  21 3 


CHAPTER  XXII. 

PIETRO   IS   COMPELLED   TO   RAISE   THE    SIEGE, 

THOUGH  Phil  was  the  besieged  party,  his  position 
was  decidedly  preferable  to  that  of  Pietro.  The 
afternoon  was  passing,  and  he  was  earning  nothing. 
He  finally  uncovered  his  organ,  and  began  to  play. 
A  few  gathered  around  him,  but  they  were  of  that 
class  with  whom  money  is  not  plenty.  So  after  a 
while,  finding  no  pennies  forthcoming,  he  stopped 
suddenly,  but  did  not  move  on,  as  his  auditors  ex 
pected  him  to.  He  still  kept  his  eyes  fixed  on  Mrs. 
McGuire's  dwelling.  He  did  this  so  long  as  to 
attract  observation. 

"  You'll  know  the  house  next  time,  mister,"  said  a 
sharp  boy. 

Pietro  was  about  to  answer  angrily,  when  a  thought 
struck  him. 

"  Will  you  do  something  for  me?"  he  asked. 

"  How  much?  "  inquired  the  boy,  suggestively 


211  PHIL*  THE  FIDDLE  n;  ox, 

"  Five  cents,"  answered  Pietro,  understanding  his 
meaning. 

"  It  isn't  much,"  said  the  boy,  reflectively.  "  Tell 
me  what  you  want." 

Though  Pietro  was  not  much  of  a  master  of  Eng 
lish,  he  contrived  to  make  the  boy  understand  that  he 
was  to  go  round  to  the  back  door  and  tell  Mrs. 
McGuire  that  he,  Pietro,  was  gone.  lie  intended  to 
hide  close  by,  and  when  Phil  came  out,  as  he  hoped, 
on  the  strength  of  his  disappearance,  he  would  de 
scend  upon  him,  and  bear  him  off  triumphantly. 

Armed  with  these  instructions,  the  boy  went  round 
to  the  back  door  and  knocked. 

Thinking  it  might  be  Phil's  enemy,  Mrs.  McGuire 
went  to  the  door,  holding  in  one  hand  a  dipper  of  hot 
suds,  ready  to  use  in  case  of  emergency. 

"  *\\rcll,  what  do  you  want?  "  she  asked  abruptly, 
seeing  that  it  was  a  boy. 

"  lie's  gone,"  said  the  boy. 

"Who's  gone?" 

"The  man  with  the  hand-organ,  ma'am." 

"And  what  for  do  I  care?"  demanded  Bridget, 
suspiciously. 


I'OUNG   STREET  MUSICIAN.  215 

This  was  a  question  the  boy  could  not  aiuwer.  In 
fact,  he  wondered  himself  why  such  a  message  should 
have  been  sent.  He  could  only  look  at  her  in 
silence. 

"  Who  told  you  to  tell  the  man  was  gone?  "  asked 
Bridget,  with  a  shrewdness  worthy  of  a  practitioner 
at  the  bar. 

"  The  Italian  told  me." 

"Did  he?"  repeated  Bridget,  who  saw  into  the 
trick  at  once.  "  He's  very  kind." 

"  He  didn't  want  you  to  know  he  told  me,"  said 
the  boy,  remembering  his  instructions  too  late. 

Mrs.  McGuire  nodded  her  head  intelligently. 

t;  True  for  you,"  said  she.  "  What  did  he  pay  you 
for  tellin'  me  ?  " 

"  Five  cents." 

"  Thin  it's  five  cints  lost.  Do  you  want  to  earn 
another  five  cints?" 

"  Yes,"  said  the  boy,  promptly. 

"  Thin  do  what  I  tell  you?" 

"What  is  it?" 

"  Come  in  and  I'll  tell  you." 


216  PJJIL,  THE  FIDDLER;  o&, 

The  boy  having  entered,  Mrs.  McGuire  led  him  to 
the  front  door. 

"  Now,"  said  she,  "  when  I  open  the  door,  run  as 
fast  as  you  can.  The  man  that  sint  you  will  think  it 
is  another  boy,  and  will  run  after  you.  Do  ye  mind?" 

The  young  messenger  began  to  see  the  joke,  and 
was  quite  willing  to  help  carry  it  out.  But  even  the 
prospective  fun  did  not  make  him  forgetful  of  his 
promised  recompense. 

"Where's  the  five  cents?"  he  asked. 

"  Here,"  said  Bridget,  and  diving  into  the  depths 
of  a  capacious  pocket  she  drew  out  five  pennies. 

"That's  all  right,"  said  the  boy.  "Now  open  the 
door." 

Bridget  took  care  to  make  a  noise  in  opening  the 
door,  and,  as  it  opened,  she  said  in  a  loud  voice, 
"You're  all  safe;  the  man's  "gone." 

"  Now  run,"  she  said  in  a  lower  voice. 

The  boy  dashed  out  of  the  door-way,  but  Mrs. 
McGuire  remained  standing  there.  She  was  not 
much  surprised  to  see  Pietro  run  out  from  the  other 
side  of  the  house,  and  prepare  to  chase  the  runaway. 
But  quickly  perceiving  that  he  was  mistaken,  he 


THE    YOUNG   STKEET  MUSICIAN.  217 

checked  his  steps,  and  turning  saw  Mrs.  McGuire 
with  a  triumphant  sinilo  on  her  face. 

"Why  don't  you  run?"  she  said.  "You  can 
catch  him." 

"  It  isn't  my  brother,"  he  answered,  sullenly. 

"  I  thought  you  was  gone,"  she  said. 

"  I  am  waiting  for  my  brother." 

"  Thin  you'll  have  to  wait.  You  wanted  to  chate 
me,  you  haythen  !  But  Bridget  McGuire  aint  to  be 
took  in  by  such  as  }TOU.  You'd  better  lave  this  be 
fore  my  man  comes  home  from  his  work,  or  he'll  give 
you  lave  of  absence  wid  a  kick." 

Without  waiting  for  an  answer  Bridget  shut  the 
door,  and  bolted  it,  —  leaving  her  enemy  routed  at 
all  points. 

In  fact  Pietro  began  to  lose  courage.  lie  saw  that 
he  had  a  determined  foe  to  contend  with.  lie  had 
been  foiled  thus  far  in  every  effort  to  obtain  posses 
sion  of  Phil.  But  the  more  difficult  the  enterprise 
seemed,  the  more  anxious  he  became  to  carry  it  out 
successfully.  lie  knew  that  the  padrone  would  not 
give  him  a  very  cordial  reception  if  he  returned  with 
out  Phil,  especially  as  he  would  be  compelled  to 


218  PHIL,  THE  FIDDLER;  07?, 

admit  that  he  had  seen  him,  and  had  nevertheless 
failed  to  secure  him.  Ilis  uncle  would  not  be  able  to 
appreciate  the  obstacles  he  had  encountered,  but 
would  consider  him  in  fault.  For  this  reason,  he  did 
not  like  to  give  up  the  siege,  though  he  saw  little 
hope  of  accomplishing  his  object.  At  length,  how 
ever,  he  was  obliged  to  raise  the  siege,  but  from  a 
cause  with  which  neither  Phil  nor  his  defender  had 
anything  to  do. 

The  sky  which  had  till  this  time  been  clear,  sud 
denly  darkened.  In  ten  minutes  rain  began  to  fall 
in  large  drops.  A  sudden  shower,  unusual  at  this 
time  in  the  year,  came  up,  and  pedestrians  every 
where,  caught  without  umbrellas,  fled  panic-stricken 
to  the  nearest  shelter.  Twice  before,  as  we  know, 
Pietro  had  suffered  from  a  shower  of  warm  water. 
This,  though  colder,  was  even  more  formidable. 
Vanquished  by  the  forces  of  nature,  Pietro  shouldered 
his  instrument  and  fled  incontinently.  Phil  might 
come  out  now,  if  he  chose.  His  enemy  had  deserted 
Iiis  post,  and  the  coast  was  clear. 

"That'll  make  the  haythen  lave,"  thought  Mrs. 
McGuire,  who,  though  sorry  to  see  the  rain  on  a^ 


THE    YOUNG   STItEET  MUSICIAN.  219 

count  of  her  washing,  exulted  in  the  fact  that  Pietro 
was  caught  out  in  it. 

She  went  to  the  front  door  and  looked  out.  Look 
ing  up  the  street,  she  just  caught  a  glimpse  of  the 
organ  in  rapid  retreat.  She  now  unbolted  the  door, 
the  danger  being  at  an  end,  and  went  up  to  acquaint 
Phil  with  the  good  news. 

"  You  may  come  down  now,"  she  said. 

"  Is  he  gone?"  inquired  Phil. 

"  Shure  he's  runnin'  up  the  street  as  fast  as  his  legs 
can  carry  him." 

"Thank  you  for  saving  me  from  him,"  said  Phil, 
with  a  great  sense  of  relief. 

"  Whisht  now ;  I  don't  nade  any  thanks.  Come 
down  by  the  fire  now." 

So  Phil  went  down,  and  Bridget,  on  hospitable 
thoughts  intent,  drew  her  only  rocking-chair  near  the 
stove,  and  forced  Phil  to  sit  down  in  it.  Then  she 
told  him,  with  evident  enjoyment,  of  the  trick  which 
Pietro  had  tried  to  play  on  her,  and  how  he  had  failed. 

"  He  couldn't  chate  me,  the  haythen ! "  she  con 
cluded.  "  I  was  too  smart  for  the  likes  of  him,  any 
how.  Where  do  you  live  when  you  are  at  home  ?  " 


220 


PJULj    THE   FIDDLE  12;    Off, 


"  I  have  no  home  now,"  said  Phil. 

"  And  have  you.  no  father  and  mother?  ' 

"  Yes,"  said  Phil.     "  They  live  in  Italy." 

"  And  why  did  they  let  }TOU  go  so  far  away?" 

"  They  were  poor,  and  the  padrone  offered  them 
money,"  answered  Phil,  forced  to  answer,  though  the 
subject  was  an  unpleasant  one. 

"  And  did  they  know  he  was  a  bad  rnan,  and  would 
bate  you.  ?  " 

"  I  don't  think  they  knew,"  said  Phil,  with  hesita 
tion.  "  My  mother  did  not  know." 

"I've  got  three  childer  myself,"  said  Bridget; 
"  they'll  get  wet  comin'  home  from  school,  the  darlints, 
—  but  I  wouldn't  let  'em  go  with  any  man  to  a  far 
country,  if  he'd  give  me  all  the  gowld  in  the  world. 
And  where  does  that  man  live  that  trates  you  so 
bad?" 

"  In  New  York." 

<s  And  does  Peter  —  or  whatever  the  haythen's  name 
is  —  live  there  too  ?  " 

"  Yes,  Pietro  lives  there.  The  padrone  is  his  uncle, 
and  treats  him  better  than  the  rest  of  us.  He  sent 
him  after  me  to  bring  me  back." 


THE    Y'JUNO    STREET  MUSICIAN1.  221 

"And  what  is  your  name?    Is  it  Peter,  like  his?" 

"  No  ;  my  name  is  Filippo." 

"  It's  a  quare  name." 

u  American  boys  call  me  Phil." 

"That's  better.  It's  a  Christian  name,  and  the 
other  isn't.  Before  I  married  my  man,  I  lived  five 
years  at  Mrs.  Robertson's,  and  she  had  a  boy  they 
called  Phil.  His  whole  name  was  Philip." 

"  That  is  my  name  in  English." 

"  Then  why  don't  you  call  it  so,  instead  of  Philip- 
O.  What  good  is  the  0,  anyhow?  In  my  country  they 
put  the  0  before  the  name  instead  of  to  the  tail-ind 
of  it.  My  mother  was  an  O'Connor.  But  it's  likely 
I  very  country  has  its  own  ways." 

Phil  knew  very  little  of  Ireland,  and  did  not  fully 
understand  Mrs.  McGuirc's  philosophical  remarks. 
Otherwise  they  might  have  amused  him,  as  they  may 
possibly  amuse  my  readers. 

I  cannot  undertake  to  chronicle  the  conversation 
that  followed  between  Phil  and  his  hostess.  She 
made  numerous  inquiries,  to  some  of  which  he  was 
able  to  give  satisfactory  replies,  to  others  not.  Bat 
In  half  an  hour  there  was  an  interruption,  and  9 


222  PHIL,  THE  FIDDLER;  o«, 

noisy  one.  Three  stout,  freckle-faced  children  ran  in 
at  the  back  door,  dripping  as  if  they  had  just  emerged 
from  a  shower-bath.  Phil  moved  aside  to  let  them 
approach  the  stove. 

Forthwith  Mrs.  McGuirc  was  engaged  in  motherly 
cares,  removing  a  part  of  the  wet  clothing,  and 
lamenting  for  the  state  in  which  her  sturdy  offspring 
had  returned.  But  presently  order  was  restored,  and 
the  bustle  was  succeeded  by  quiet. 

"  Play  us  a  tune,"  said  Pat,  the  oldest. 

Phil  complied  with  the  request,  and  played  tune 
after  tune,  to  the  great  delight  of  the  children  as  well 
as  of  Mrs.  McGuire  herself.  The  result  was  that 
when,  shortly  after,  on  the  storm  subsiding,  Phil  pro 
posed  to  go,  the  children  clamored  to  have  him  stay, 
and  he  received  such  a  cordial  invitation  to  stop  till 
the  next  morning  that  he  accepted,  nothing  loth.  So 
till  the  next  morning  our  young  hero  is  provided  for* 


TITS    YOUXQ    STREET  ATUSICTAtf.  223 


CHAPTER  XXIII. 

A   PITCHED    BATTLE. 

IL* 3  my  youthful  reader  ever  seen  a  dog  slinkiug 
homo  with  downcast  look,  and  tail  between  his  legs? 
It  was  with  very  much  the  same  air  that  Pietro  in  tho 
evening  entered  the  presence  of  the  padrone.  lie 
had  received  a  mortifying  defeat,  and  now  he  had  be 
fore  him  the  difficult  task  of  acknowledging  it. 

"  "Well,  Pietro,"  said  the  padrone,  harshly,  "  where 
isFilippo?" 

"  He  is  not  with  me,"  answered  Pietro,  in  an  em 
barrassed  manner. 

'•Didn't  you  see  him,  then?"  demanded  his  uncle, 
hastily. 

For  an  instant  Pietro  was  inclined  to  reply  in  the 
negative,  knowing  that  the  censure  he  would  incur 
would  be  less.  But  Phil  might  yet  be  taken,  —  he 
probably  would  be  sooi  er  or  later,  Pietro  thought,  — 
and  then  his  falsehood  would  be  found  out,  and  he 


224  PIIIL<    THE   FIDDLER,    0JJ, 

would  in  consequence  lose  the  confidence  of  the 
padrone.  So,  difficult  though  it  was,  he  thought  it 
politic  to  tell  the  truth. 

"  Si,  signore,  I  saw  him,"  said  he. 

u  Then  why  didn't  you  drag  him  home?"  de 
manded  his  uncle,  with  contracted  brow.  u  Didn't  I 
order  you  to  bring  him  home  ?  " 

"  Si,  signore,  but  I  could  not." 

"Are  you  not  so  strong  as  he,  then?"  asked  the 
padrone,  with  a  sneer.  "  Is  a  boy  of  twelve  more 
than  a  match  for  JTOU,  who  are  six  years  older?  " 

"  I  could  kill  him  with  my  little  finger,"  said 
Pietro,  stung  by  this  taunt,  and  for  the  moment  he 
looked  as  if  he  would  like  to  do  it. 

"  Then  you  didn't  want  to  bring  him?  Come,  you 
aie  not  too  old  for  the  stick  yet." 

Pietro  glowed  beneath  his  dark  skin  with  anger 
and  shame  when  these  words  were  addressed  to  him. 
He  would  not  have  cared  so  much  had  they  been 
alone,  but  some  of  the  younger  boys  were  present, 
and  it  shamed  him  to  be  threatened  in  their  presence. 

"I  will  tell  3rou  how  it  happened,"  he  said,  sup- 


THE    YOUNO   STREET  MUSICIAN".  225 

pressing  his  anger  as  well  as  he  could,  "  and  you  will 
Bee  that  I  was  not  in  fault." 

"  Speak  on,  then,"  said  his  uncle ;  but  his  tone  was 
cold  and  incredulous. 

Pictro  told  the  story,  as  we  know  it.  It  will  not 
be  necessary  to  repeat  it.  "When  he  had  finished,  his 
uncle  said,  with  a  sneer,  "  So  you  were  afraid  of  a 
woman.  I  am  ashamed  of  you." 

"  What  could  I  do?"  pleaded  Pietro. 

"What   could  you   do?"    repeated  the   padrone, 
furiously ;   "  you  could  push  her  aside,  run  into  thtf 
house,  and  secure   the  boy.    You  are  a   coward,  - 
afraid  of  a  woman  !  " 

"  It  was  her  house/'  said  Pietro.  "  She  would  call 
the  police." 

"  So  could  you.  You  could  say  it  was  3' our 
brother  you  sought.  There  was  no  difficulty.  Do 
you  think  Filippo  is  there  yet  ?  " 

"  I  do  not  know." 

"  To-morrow  I  will  go  with  you  myself,"  said  the 
padrone.  "I  see  I  cannot  trust  you  alone.  You 
shall  show  me  the  house,  and  I  will  take  the  boy." 

Pietro  was  glad  to  hear  this.     It  shifted  the  re- 


226  PHIL,  THE  FIDDLER;  oit, 

sponsibility  from  his  shoulders,  and  he  was  privately 
convinced  that  Mrs.  McGuirc  would  prove  a  more 
formidable  antagonist  than  the  padrone  imagined. 
Whichever  way  it  turned  out,  he  would  experience  a 
feeling  of  satisfaction.  If  the  padrone  got  worsted, 
it  would  show  that  he,  Pietro,  need  not  be  ashamed 
of  his  defeat.  If  Mrs.  McGuire  had  to  surrender  at 
discretion,  he  would  rejoice  in  her  discomfiture.  So, 
in  spite  of  his  reprimand,  he  went  to  bed  with  better 
spirits  than  he  came  home. 

The  next  morning  Pietro  and  the  padrone  pro 
ceeded  to  Newark,  as  proposed.  Arrived  there,  the 
former  led  his  uncle  at  once  to  the  house  of  the  re 
doubtable  Mrs.  McGuire.  It  will  be  necessary  for 
us  to  precede  them. 


Patrick  McGuire  was  a  laborer,  and  for  some 
months  past  had  had  steady  work.  But,  as  luck 
would  have  it,  work  ceased  for  him  on  the  day  in 
which  his  wife  had  proved  so  powerful  a  protector  to 
Phil.  When  he  came  home  at  night  he  announced 
this. 

"  Niver  mind,  Pat,"  said  Mrs.  McGuire,  who  was 
sanguine  and  hopeful,  "we'll  live  somehow.  I've 


THE    YOUXO   STREET  MUSICIAN.  227 

got  a  bit  of  money  upstairs,  and  I'll  earn  something 
by  washing.     We_  won't  starve." 

u  I'll  get  work  ag'in  soon,  maybe,"  sold  Put,  en 
couraged. 

"  Shure  3-011  will." 

4t  And  if  I  don't,  I'll  help  you  wash,"  said  her  hus 
band,  humorous'y. 

"  Shure  you'd  spoil  the  clothes,"  said  Bridget 
laughing. 

In  the  evening  Phil  played,  and  they  had  a  merry 
time.  Mr.  McGuire  quite  forgot  that  he  was  out  of 
work,  and  seizing  his  wife  by  the  waist  danced  around 
the  kitchen,  to  the  great  delight  of  the  children. 

The  next  morning  Phil  thanked  Mrs.  McGuire  for 
her  kindness,  and  prepared  to  go  away. 

"Why  will  you  go?"  asked  Bridget,  hospitably. 
"  Shure  we  have  room  for  you.  You  can  pay  u^  a 
Little  for  your  atin',  and  sleep  with  the  childer." 

"  I  should  like  it,"  said  Phil,  "  but  —  " 

"But  what?" 

"  Pietro  will  come  for  me." 

"  And   if  he  does,  my  Pat  will  kick    him  out  of 
loors." 


228  P/7/Z,  THE  FIDDLER;  OR, 

Mr.  McGuire  was  six  feet  in  height,  and  power 
fully  made.  There  was  no  doubt  he  could  do  it  if 
he  had  the  opportunity.  But  Phil  knew  that  he  must 
go  out  into  the  streets,  and  then  Pietro  might  wnylay 
him  when  he  had  no  protector  at  hand.  He  explained 
his  difficulty  to  Mrs.  McGuire,  and  she  proposed  that 
he  should  remain  close  at  hand  all  the  forenoon  ;  near 
enough  to  fly  to  the  house,  as  a  refuge,  if  needful.  If 
Pietro  did  not  appear  in  that  time,  he  probably  would 
not  at  all. 

Phil  agreed  to  this  plan,  and  accordingly  began  to 
play  and  sing  in  the  immediate  neighborhood,  keeping 
a  watchful  lookout  for  the  enemy.  His  earnings  were 
small,  for  the  neighborhood  was  poor.  Still  he  picked 
np  a  few  pennies,  and  his  store  was  increased  by  a 
twenty-five-cent  gift  from  a  passing  gentleman.  Ho 
had  just  commenced  a  new  tune,  being  at  that  time 
ten  rods  from  the  house,  when  his  watchful  eyes 
detected  the  approach  of  Pietro,  and,  more  formidable 
still,  —  the  padrone. 

He  did  not  stop  to  finish  the  tune,  but  took  to  his 
Leels  At  that  moment  the  padrone  saw  him.  Witb 


THE    YOUNG   STREET  MUSICIAN.  229 

a  cry  of  fierce  exultation,  he  started  tn  pursuit,  and 
Pietro  with  him.  He  thought  Phil  already  in  his  grasp. 

Phil  dashed  breathless  into  the  kitchen,  where 
Mrs.  McGuire  was  ironing. 

"What's  the  matter?"  she  asked. 

"The  padrone — Pietro  and  the  padrone!"  ex 
claimed  Phil,  pale  with  affright. 

Mrs.  McGuire  took  in  the  situation  at  once. 

"  Run  upstairs,"  she  said.  "  Pat's  up  there  on  the 
bed.  He  will  see  they  don't  take  you." 

Phil  sprang  upstairs  two  steps  at  a  time,  and 
dashed  into  the  chamber.  Mr.  McGuire  was  lying  on 
the  bed,  smoking  a  clay  pipe. 

"What's  the  matther?"  he  asked,  repeating  his 
wife's  question. 

"  They  have  come  for  me,"  said  Phil. 

"Have  they?"  said  Pat.  "  Then  they'll  go  back, 
I'm  thinkin'.  "Where  are  they?" 

But  there  was  no  need  of  a  reply,  as  their  voices 
were  already  audible  from  below,  talking  with  Mrs. 
McGuire.  The  distance  was  so  trifling,  that  they  had 
seen  Phil  enter  the  house,  and  the  padrone,  having  a 


230  PHIL,    THE   FIDDLEIi;    OX, 

contempt  for  the  physical  powers  of  woman,  followed 
boldly. 

They  met  Mrs.  McGuire  at  the  door. 

u  What  do  ye  want?  "  she  demanded. 

"  The  boy,"  said  the  padrone.  "  I  saw  him  come 
in  here." 

"  Did  ye?     Your  eyes  is  sharp  thin." 

She  stood  directly  in  the  passage,  so  that  neither 
could  enter  without  brushing  her  aside. 

"  Send  him  out,"  said  the  padrone. 

"  Faith,  and  I  won't,"  said  Bridget.  "  lie  shall 
stay  here  as  long  as  he  likes." 

"  I  will  come  in  and  take  him,"  said  the  padrone, 
furiously. 

"  I  wouldn't  advise  ye  to  thry  it,"  said  Mrs. 
McGuire,  coolly. 

"  Move  aside,  woman,  or  I  will  make  you,"  said 
the  Italian,  angrily. 

"  I'll  stay  where  I  am.  Shure  it's  my  own  house, 
and  I  have  a  right  to  do  it." 

"  Pietro,"  said  the  padrone,  with  sudden  thought, 
"  he  may  escape  from  the  front  door.  Go  round  and 
watch  it." 


THE    YOUNG   STREET  MUSICIAN.  231 

By  his  sign  Bridget  guessed  what  he  said,  though 
it  rras  spoken  in  Italian. 

"  He  won't  run  away,"   she   said.     u  I'll  tell  you 
where  he  is,  if  you  want  to  know." 

"  Where?"  asked  the  padrone,  eagerly. 

"  He's  upstairs,  thin." 

The  padrone  would  not  be  restrained  any  longer. 
He  made  a  rush  forward,  and,  pushing  Mrs.  McGuire 
aside,  sprang  up  the  stairs.  He  would  have  found 
greater  difficulty  in  doing  this,  but  Bridget,  knowing 
her  husband  was  upstairs,  made  little  resistance,  and 
contented  herself,  after  the  padrone  had  passed,  with 
intercepting  Pietro,  and  clutching  him  vigorously  by 
the  hair,  to  his  great  discomfort,  screaming  "  Mur- 
ther !  "  at  the  top  of  her  lungs. 

The  padrone  heard  the  cry,  but  in  his  impetuosity 
he  did  not  heed  it.  He  expected  to  gain  an  easy 
victory  over  Phil,  whom  he  supposed  to  be  alone  iu 
the  chamber.  He  sprang  towards  him,  but  had 
barely  seized  him  by  the  arm,  when  the  gigantic 
form  of  the  Irishman  appeared,  and  the  padrone 
found  himself  in  his  powerful  grasp. 

"What     business     have    ye    here,    you     bloody 


232  PHIL,    THE   FIDDLER',    OR) 

villain?"  demanded  Pat;  "  breakin'  into  an  honest 
man's  house,  without  lave  or  license.  I'll  tache  you 
manners,  you  baste  !  " 

u  Give  me  the  boy !  "  gasped  the  padrone. 

"  You  can't  have  him,  thin  !  "  said  Pat.  "  You 
want  to  bate  him,  you  murderin'  ould  villain  !  " 

"  I'll  have  you  arrested,"  said  the  padrone,  furi 
ously,  writhing  vainly  to  get  himself  free.  He  was 
almost  beside  himself  that  Phil  should  be  the  witness 
of  his  humiliation. 

"Will  you,  thin?"  demanded  Pat.  "Thin  the 
sooner  you  do  it  the  betther.  Open  the  window, 
Phil !  " 

Phil  obeyed,  not  knowing  why  the  request  was 
made.  Pie  was  soon  enlightened.  The  Irishman 
seized  the  padrone,  and,  lifting  him  from  the  floor, 
carried  him  to  the  window  despite  his  struggles,  and, 
thrusting  him  out,  let  him  drop.  It  was  only  the 
second  story,  and  there  was  no  danger  of  serious 
Injury.  The  padrone  picked  himself  up,  only  to  meet 
mih  another  disaster.  A  passing  policeman  had 
beard  Mrs.  McGuire's  cries,  and  on  hearing  her  ac 
count  had  arrested  Pietro,  and  was  just  in  time  to 


THE    YOUNG   STREET  MUS1LIAN.  233 

arrest  the  padrone  also,  on  the  charge  of  forcibly 
entering  the  house.  As  the  guardian  of  the  peace 
marched  off  with  Pietro  on  one  side  and  the  padrone 
on  the  other,  Mrs.  McGuire  sat  down  on  a  chair,  and 
laughed  till  she  cried. 

"  Shure  they  won't  come  for  you  ag'in  in  a  hurry, 
Phil,  darlint ! "  she  said.  "  They've  got  all  they 
want,  I'm  thmkin'." 

I  may  add  that  the  pair  were  confined  in  the 
station-house  over  night,  and  the  next  day  were 
brought  before  a  justice,  reprimanded  and  fined. 


234  PHIL,  THE  FIDDLER; 


CHATTER    XXIV. 

THE  DEATH  OF  GIACOMO. 

GREAT  was  the  astonishment  at  the  Italian 
lodging-house  that  night  when  neither  the  padrone 
nor  Pietro  made  his  appearance.  Great  was  the  joy 
also,  for  the  nightly  punishments  were  also  neces 
sarily  omitted,  and  the  boys  had  no  one  to  pay  their 
money  to.  There  was  another  circumstance  not  so 
agreeable.  All  the  provisions  were  locked  up,  and 
there  was  no  supper  for  the  hungiy  children.  Finally, 
at  half-past  eleven,  three  boys,  bolder  than  the  rest, 
went  out,  and  at  last  succeeded  in  obtaining  some 
bread  and  crackers  at  an  oyster-saloon,  in  sufficient 
quantities  to  supply  all  their  comrades.  After  eating 
heartily  they  went  to  bed,  and  for  one  night  the  es 
tablishment  ran  itself  much  more  satisfactorily  to  the 
boys  than  if  the  padrone  had  been  present 

The  next  morning  the  boys  went  out  as  usual, 
having  again  bought  their  breakfast  and  dispersed 


THE    YOUNG   STREET  MUSICIAN".  235 

themselves  about  the  city  and  vicinity,  heartily  hop 
ing  that  this  state  of  things  might'  continue.  But 
it  was  too  good  to  last.  When  they  returned  at 
evening  they  found  their  old  enemy  in  command, 
lie  looked  more  ill-tempered  and  sourer  than  ever, 
but  gave  no  explanation  of  his  and  Pietro's  absence, 
except  to  say  that  he  had  been  out  of  the  city  on 
business.  He  called  for  the  boys'  earnings  of  the 
day  previous,  but  to  their  surprise  made  no  inquiries 
about  how  they  had  supplied  themselves  with  supper 
or  breakfast.  He  felt  that  his  influence  over  the 
boys,  and  the  terror  which  he  delighted  to  inspire  in 
them,  would  be  lessened  if  they  should  learn  that  he 
had  been  arrested  and  punished.  The  boys  were 
accustomed  to  look  upon  him  as  possessed  of  absolute 
power  over  them,  and  almost  regarded  him  as  above 
law, 

Pietro,  too,  was  silent,  partly  for  the  same  reasons 
which  influenced  the  padrone,  partly  because  he 
was  afraid  of  offending  his  uncle. 

Meanwhile  poor  Giacomo  remained  sick.  If  he 
had  been  as  robust  and  strong  as  Phil,  he  would  have 
recovered,  bit:  he  was  naturally  delicate,  and  ex« 


236  p/7/z,  THE  FIDDLER;  ox, 

posure_and_insufScient  food  had_ donejheir  work  outy 
too  well. 

Four  days  afterwards  (to  advance  the  story  a 
little)  one  of  the  boys  came  to  the  padrone  in  the 
morning,  saying,  "  Signore  padrone,  Giacomo  is 
much  worse.  I  think  he  is  going  to  die." 

"Nonsense!"  said  the  padrone,  angrily.  "  He  is 
only  pretending  to  be  sick,  so  that  he  need  riot  work. 
I  have  lost  enough  by  him  already." 

Nevertheless  he  went  to  the  little  boy's  bedside. 

Giacomo  was  breathing  faintly.  His  face  was 
painfully  thin,  his  eyes  preternaturally  bright.  He 
spoke  faintly,  but  his  mind  seemed  to  be  wandering. 

"Where  is  Filippo?"  he  said.  "I  want  to  see 
Filippo." 

In  this  wish  the  padrone  heartily  concurred.  He, 
too,  would  have  been  glad  to  see  Filippo,  but  the 
pleasure  would  not  have  been  mutual. 

"Why  do  you  want  to  see  Filippo?"  he  demanded, 
in  his  customary  harsh  tone. 

Giacomo  heard  and  answered,  though  unconscious 
who  spoke  to  him. 

"  I  want  to  kiss  him  before  I  die,"  he  said , 


THE    I  DUNG   STREET  MUSICIAN.  237 

"What  makes  you  think  you  are  going  to  die?" 
said  the  padrone,  struck  in  spite  of  himself  by  the 
boy's  appearance. 

"  I  am  so  weak,"  murmured  Giacomo.  "  Stoop 
down,  Filippo.  I  want  to  tell  you  something  in  your 
ear." 

Moved  by  curiosity  rather  than  humanity,  the  pa 
drone  stooped  over,  and  Giacomo  whispered  :  — 

"  When  you  go  back  to  Italy,  dear  Filippo,  go  and 
tell  my  mother  how  I  died.  Tell  her  not  to  let  my 
father  sell  my  little  brother  to  a  padrone,  or  he  may 
die  far  away,  as  I  am  dying.  Promise  me,  Filip 


There  was  no  answer.  The  padrone  did  indeed 
feel  a  slight  emotion  of  pity,  but  it  was  unhappily 
transient.  Giacomo  did  not  observe  that  the  ques 
tion  was  not  answered. 

"  Kiss  me,  Filippo,"  said  the  dying  boy. 

One  of  the  boys  who  stood  near  by,  with  tears  in 
his  e}Tes,  bent  over  and  kissed  him. 


Giacomo    smiled.     He    thought    it    was    Filippo. 

Jut 

With  that  smile  on  his  face,  he  gave  one  quick  gasp 


238  PHIL,  THE  FIDDLER;  on, 

and  died,  —  a  victim  of  the  padrone's  tyranny  and  his 
father's  cupidity.* 

Death  came  to  Giacomo  as  a  friend.  No  longer 
could  he  be  forced  out  into  the  streets  to  suffer  cold 
and  fatigue,  and  at  night  inhuman  treatment  and 
abuse.  His  slavery  was  at  an  end. 

"We  go  back  now  to  Phil.  Though  he  and  his 
friends  had  again  gained  a  victory  over  Pictro  and 
the  padrone,  he  thought  it  would  not  be  prudent  to 
remain  in  Newark  any  longer.  lie  knew  the  re 
vengeful  spirit  of  his  tyrants,  and  dreaded  the  chance 
of  again  falling  into  their  hands.  He  must  of  course 
be  exposed  to  the  risk  of  capture  while  plying  his 
vocation  in  the  public  streets.  Therefore  he  resisted 
the  invitation  of  his  warm-hearted  protectors  to  make 
his  home  with  them,  and  decided  to  wander  farther 
away  from  New  York. 

*  It  is  the  testimony  of  an  eminent  Neapolitan  physician 
(1  quote  from  Signor  Casali,  editor  of  UEco  d'  Italia*)  that  of 
one  hundred  Italian  children  who  are  sold  by  their  parents  into 
this  white  slavery,  but  twenty  ever  return  home;  thirty  gro-tf 
up  and  adopt  various  occupations  abroad,  and  fifty  succumb  to 
maladies  produced  by  privation  and  exposure. 


1XS,    TctfA'G   STREET  MUSICIAN".  239 

'i'l^  v,"U'*.  claj',  therefore,  he  went  to  the  railway 
jUtJOi.,  ani?  bought  a  ticket  for  a  place  ten  milea 
further  t  *\.  7"hi3  he  decided  would  be  far  enough  to 
Le  safe. 

Getting  out  of  the  train,  he  found  himself  in  a  vil 
lage  of  moderate  size.  Phil  looked  around  him  with 
interest.  He  had  the  fondness,  natural  to  his  age, 
for  seeing  new  places.  He  soon  came  to  a  school- 
house.  It  was  only  quarter  of  nine,  and  some  of  the 
boys  were  playing  outside.  Phil  leaned  against  a 
tree  and  looked  on. 

Though  he  was  at  an  age  when  bo}'S  enjoy  play 
better  than  work  or  study,  he  had  no  opportunity  to 
join  in  their  games. 

One  of  the  boys,  observing  him,  came  up  and  said 
frankly,  "  Do  you  want  to  play  with  us?  " 

"Yes,"  said  Phil,  brightening  up,  "I  should  like 
to." 

"  Come  on,  then." 

Phil  looked  at  his  fiddle  and  hesitated. 

"  Oh,  I'll  take  care  of  your  fiddle  for  you.  Here, 
this  tree  is  hollow ;  just  put  it  inside,  and  nobody 
will  touch  it." 


240  PRIL,  THE  FIDDLER;  ox, 

Phil  needed  no  second  invitation.  Sure  of  tho 
safety  of  his  fiddle,  which  was  all  important  to  him 
since  it  procured  for  him  bis  livelihood,  he  joined  in 
the  game  with  zest.  It  was  so  simple  that  he  easily 
understood  it.  His  laugh  was  as  loud  and  merry  as 
any  of  the  rest,  and  his  face  glowed  with  enjoyment. 

It  does  not  take  long  for  boys  to  become  acquainted. 
In  the  brief  time  before  the  teacher's  arrival,  Phil 
became  on  good  terms  with  the  school-boys,  and  the 
one  who  had  first  invited  him  to  join  them,  said, 
"  Come  into  school  with  us.  You  shall  sit  in  my 
seat." 

"Will  he  let  me?"  asked  Phil,  pointing  to  tho 
teacher. 

"  To  be  sure  he  will.     Come  along." 

Phil  took  his  fiddle  from  its  hiding-place  in  the 
interior  of  the  tree,  and  walked  beside  his  companion 
into  the  school-room. 

It  was  the  first  time  he  had  ever  been  in  a  school 
room  before,  and  he  looked  about  him  writh  curiosity 
at  the  desks,  and  the  maps  hanging  on  tho  walls. 
The  blackboards,  too,  he  regarded  with  surprise,  not 
understanding  their  use. 


THE    JOUNO   STREET  MUSICIAN.  241 

After  the  opening  exercises  were  concluded,  the 
teacher,  whose  attention  had  been  directed  to  the  new 
comer,  walked  up  to  the  desk  where  he  was  seated. 
Phil  was  a  little  alarmed,  for,  associating  him  with  hia 
recollections  of  the  padrone,  he  did  not  know  but  that 
he  would  be  punished  for  his  temerity  in  entering 
without  the  teacher's  invitation. 

But  he  was  soon  reassured  by  the  pleasant  tone  in 
which  he  was  addressed. 

"  What  is  your  name,  my  young  friend?  " 

"  Filippo." 

"  You  are  an  Italian,  I  suppose." 

"Si,  signore." 

"  Does  that  mean  Yes,  sir?" 

"  Yes,  sir,"  answered  Phil,  remembering  to  speak 
English. 

"  Is  that  your  violin?" 

"Yes,  sir." 

"Where  do  you  live?" 

Phil  hesitated. 

"I  am  travelling,"  he  said  at  last. 

"  You  are  young  to  travel  alone.  How  long  hart 
you  been  in  this  country  ?  " 


242  PHIL,  THE  FIDDLER;  o«, 

"  A  year." 

"And  have  you  been  travelling  about  all  tliat 
time?" 

"  No,  signore  ;  I  have  lived  in  New  York." 

"  I  suppose  you  have  not  gone  to  school." 

u  No,  signore." 

"  Well,  I  am  glad  to  see  you  here  ;  I  shall  be  glad 
to  have  }'ou  stay,  and  listen  to  our  exercises." 

The  teacher  walked  back  to  his  desk,  and  the 
lessons  began.  Phil  listened  with  curiosity  and  atten 
tion.  For  the  first  time  in  his  life  he  felt  ashamed 
of  his  own  ignorance,  and  wished  he,  too,  might  have 
a  chance  to  learn,  as  the  children  around  him  were 
doing.  But  they  hnd  homes  and  parents  to  supply 
their  wants,  while  he  must  work  for  his  livelihood. 

After  a  time,reeess  came.  Then  the  boys  gathered 
around,  and  asked  Phil  to  play  them  a  tune. 

"  Will  he  let  me?"  asked  the  young  fiddler,  again 
referring  to  the  teacher. 

The  latter  being  applied  to,  readily  consented, 
and  expressed  his  own  wish  to  hear  Phil.  So  the 
young  minstrel  played  and  sung  several  tunes  to  the 
group  of  children  who  gathered  around  him.  Time 


THS    YOUNO   STREET  MUSICIAN.  243 

passed  rapidly,  and  the  recess  was  over  before  the 
children  anticipated  it. 

"  I  am  sorry  to  disturb  your  enjoyment,"  said  the 
teacher ;  "  but  duty  before  pleasure,  you  know.  I 
will  only  suggest  that,  as  our  young  friend  here  de 
pends  on  his  violin  for  support,  we  ought  to  collect  a 
little  money  for  him.  James  Reynolds,  suppose  you 
pass  around  your  hat  for  contributions.  Come  to  me 
first." 

The  united  offerings,  though  small  individually, 
amounted  to  a  dollar,  which  Phil  pocketed  with  much 
satisfaction.  He  did  not  remain  after  recess,  but  re 
sumed  his  wanderings,  and  about  noon  entered  a 
grocery  store,  where  he  made  a  hearty  lunch.  Thus 
far  good  fortune  attended  him,  but  the  time  was  com 
ing,  and  that  before  long,  when  life  would  wear  a  les§ 
sunny  aspect. 


244  PHIL*  THE  FIDDLER;  ox. 


CHAPTER  XXV. 

DR.    DI?AYTON'S    CHRISTMAS    GIFT. 

IT  was  the  evening  before  Christinas.  Until 
to-day  the  winter  had  been  an  open  one,  but  about 
one  o'clock  in  the  afternoon  the  snow  began  to  fall. 
The  flakes  came  thicker  and  faster,  and  it  soon  be 
came  evident  that  an  old-fashioned  snow-storm  had 
set  in.  By  seven  o'clock  the  snow  lay  a  foot  deep  on 
a  level,  but  in  some  places  considerably  deeper,  for  a 
brisk  wind  had  piled  it  up  in  places. 

In  a  handsome  house,  some  rods  back  from  the 
village  street,  lived  Dr.  Drayton,  a  physician,  whose 
skill  was  so  well  appreciated  that  he  had  ahead}7, 
though  still  in  the  prime  of  life,  accumulated  a  hand 
some  competence. 

lie  sat  this  evening  in  his  library,  in  dressing- 
gown  and  slippers,  his  wife  near  by  engaged  on  some 
needle-work. 

41 1  hope  you  won't  be  called  out  this  evening, 


a 
* 


THE    YOUNG   STREET  MUSICIAN.  245 

Joseph,"    said  Mrs.   Drayton,    as   a  gust    of  wind 
rattled  the  window-panes. 

"  I  echo  that  wish,  my  dear,"  said  the  doctor, 
looking  up  from  the  last  number  of  the  u  Atlantic 
Monthly.*  u  I  find  it  much  more  comfortable  sitting 
here,  reading  Dr.  Holmes'  last  article." 

The  snow  must  be  quite  deep." 
"  It  is.  I  found  my  ride  from  the  north  village 
this  afternoon  bleak  enough.  You  know  how  the  wind 
sweeps  across  the  road  near  the  Pond  school-house. 
I  believe  there  is  to  be  a  Christmas-eve  celebration 
in  the  Town  Hall  this  evening,  —  is  there  not?  " 

"  No ;  it  has  been  postponed  till  to-morrow  even- 
ing." 

"  That  will  be  better.     The  weather  and  walking 
will  both  be  bettor.     Shall  we  go,  Mary  ?  " 
"  If  you  wish  it,"  she  said,  hesitatingly. 
Her  husband  understood  her  hesitation.    Christmas 
day  was   a  sad   anniversary   to   them.     Four  years 
before,  their  onty  son  Walter,  a  boy  of  eight,  had  died 
just  as  the  Christmas  church-bells  were  ringing  out 
a  summons  to   church.     Since  then  the  house  had 
been  a  silent  one,  the  quiet    unbroken  by  childish 


246  PHIL,  THE  FIDDLER;  o#, 

JK>Ne  and  merriment.  Much  as  the  doctor  and  hig 
wife  were  to  each  other,  both  felt  the  void  which 
Walter's  death  had  created,  and  especially  as  the 
anniversary  came  round,  which  called  to  mind  their 
great  loss. 

"  I  think  we  had  better  go,"  said  the  doctor ; 
"  though  God  has  bereft  us  of  our  own  child,  it  will 
be  pleasant  for  us  to  watch  the  happy  faces  of 
others." 

"  Perhaps  you  are  right,  Joseph." 
Half  an  hour  passed.     The  doctor  continued  read 
ing  the    "Atlantic,"  while  his  wife,  occupied  with 
thoughts  which  the  conversation  had  called  up,  kept 
on  with  her  work. 

Just  then  the  bell  was  heard  to  ring. 
"  I  hope  it  is  not  for  you,  Joseph,"  said  his  wife, 
apprehensively. 

"  I  am  afraid  it  is,"  said  the  doctor,  with  a  look  of 
resignation.  "  I  thought  it  would  be  too  good  luck 
for  me  to  have  the  whole  evening  to  myself." 

"  I  wish  you  were  not  a  doctor,"  said  Mrs.  Dray- 
ton. 

"  It  is  rather  too  late  to  change  ray  profession,  my 


THE    YOUA'G   STREET  MUSICIAN,  247 

d3ai,"  said  her  husband,  good-humoredly.  u  I  shall  be 
fifty  next  birthday.  To  be  sure,  Ellen  Jones  tells 
me  that  in  her  class  at  the  Normal  School  there  is  a 
maiden  lady  of  sixty-two,  who  has  just  begun  to  pre 
pare  herself  for  the  profession  of  a  teacher.  I  am 
not  quite  so  old  as  that." 

Here  the  servant  opened  the  door,  ushering  in  a 
farm-laborer. 

"  Good  evening,  Abner,"  said  the  doctor,  recogniz 
ing  him,  as  indeed  he  knew  every  face  within  half-a- 
dozen  miles.  "  Anything  amiss  at  home?" 

"  Mrs.  Felton  is  took  with  spasms,"  said  Abner. 
•*  Can  you  come  right  over  ?  " 

"  What  have  3-011  done  for  her  ?  " 

u  Put  her  feet  in  warm  water,  and  put  her  to  bed. 
Can  you  come  right  over  ?  " 

"  Yes,"  said  the  doctor,  rising  and  exchanging  his 
dressing-gown  for  a  coat,  and  drawing  on  his  boots. 
*'  I  will  go  as  soon  as  my  horse  is  ready." 

Orders  were  sent  out  to  put  the  horse  in  the  sleigh. 
This  was  quickly  done,  and  the  doctor  fully  ao- 
couf-red  walked  to  the  door. 


248  PHIL)  THE  FIDDLER;  OT?, 

"  I  shall  be  back  as  soon  as  I  can,  Mary,"  he 
said. 

"That  won't  be  very  soon.  It  is  a  good  two- 
Biles'  ride." 

"  I  shan't  loiter  on  the  way,  you  may  be  sure  of 
that.  Abner,  I  am  ready." 

The  snow  was  still  falling,  but  not  quite  so  fast 
as  early  in  the  afternoon.  The  wind,  however,  blew 
quite  as  hard,  and  the  doctor  found  all  his  wrappings 
needful. 

At  intervals  on  the  road  he  came  to  deep  drifts  of 
snow,  through  which  the  horse  had  some  difficulty  in 
drawing  the  sleigh,  but  at  length  he  arrived  at  the 
door  of  his  patient.  He  found  that  the  violence  of 
her  attack  was  over,  and,  satisfied  of  this,  left  a  few 
simple  directions,  which  he  considered  sufficient. 
Nature  would  do  the  rest. 

"  Now  for  home  ! "  he  said  to  himself.  "  I  hope 
this  will  be  my  last  professional  call  this  evening. 
Mary  will  be  impatient  for  my  return." 

lie  gave  the  reins  to  his  horse,  who  appeared  to 
feel  that  he  was  bound  homeward,  and  travelled  with 
more  alacrity  than  he  had  come.  lie,  too,  no  doubt 


THE    YOUNG   STREET  MUSICIAN'.  249 

shared  the  doctor's  hope  that  this  was  the  last  service 
required  of  him  before  the  morrow. 

Doctor  Drayton  had  completed  rather  more  than 
half  his  journey,  when,  looking  to  the  right,  his  atten 
tion  was  drawn  to  a  small,  dark  object,  nearly 
covered  with  snow. 

Instinctively  he  reined  up -his  horse. 

"  Good  heavens ! "  he  exclaimed,  "  it  must  be  a 
boy.  God  grant  he  is  not  frozen  !  " 

He  leaped  from  the  sleigh,  and  lifted  the  insensible 
tody. 

"  It  is  an  Italian  boy,  and  here  is  his  violin.  The 
poor  child  may  be  dead,"  he  said  to  himself  in  a 
startled  tone.  "I  must  carry  him  home,  and  see 
what  I  can  do  for  him." 

So  he  took  up  tenderly  our  young  hero,  —  for  our 
readers  will  have  guessed  that  it  was  Phil,  —  and  put 
both  him  and  his  violin  into  the  sleigh.  Then  he 
drove  home  with  a  speed  which  astonished  even  his 
horse,  who,  though  anxious  to  reach  his  comfortable 
stable,  would  not  voluntarily  have  put  forth  so  great 
an  exertion  as  was  now  required  of  him. 

I  must  explain  that  Phil  had  for  the  last  ten  days 


2^0  PIIIL,  THE  FIDDLER;  ony 

been  travelling  about  the  country,  getting  on  coin* 
fortably  while  the  ground  was  bare  of  snow.  To-dajr, 
however,  had  proved  very  uncomfortable.  In  the 
city  the  snow  would  have  been  cleared  off,  and  would 
not  have  interfered  so  much  with  travelling. 

lie  had  bought  some  supper  at  a  grocery  store,  and, 
after  spending  an  hour  there,  had  set  out  again  on  hi g 
wanderings.  He  found  the  walking  so  bad,  that  he 
made  up  his  mind  to  apply  for  a  lodging  at  a  house 
not  far  back ;  but  a  fierce  dog,  by  his  barking,  had 
deterred  him  from  the  application.  The  road  was 
lonely,  and  he  had  seen  no  other  house  since.  Finally, 
exhausted  by  the  effort  of  dragging  himself  through 
the  deep  snow,  and,  stiff  with  cold,  he  sank  down  by 
the  side  of  the  road,  and  would  doubtless  have  frozen 
had  not  the  doctor  made  his  appearance  opportunely. 

Mrs.  Drayton  was  alarmed  when  her  husband 
entered  the  sitting-room,  bearing  Phil's  insensible 
form. 

She  jumped  to  her  feet  in  alarm. 

"  Who  is  it,  Joseph?  "  she  asked. 

<r>  A  poor  Italian  boy,  whom  I  found  by  the  side  01 
the  road." 


THE    YOUNG   STREET  MUSICIAN.  251 

"  Is  he  dead?"  asked  the  doctor's  wife,  quickly. 

u  I  think  not.  I  will  restore  him  if  there  is  any 
life  left  in  him." 

It  was  fortunate  for  Phil  that  he  had  been  dis 
covered  by  a  skilful  physician,  who  knew  the  most 
effectual  means  of  bringing  him  to.  The  flame  of 
life  was  burning  low,  and  a  little  longer  exposure 
would  have  closed  the  earthly  career  of  our  young 
hero.  But  he  was  spared,  as  we  hope,  for  a  happy 
and  useful  career. 

By  the  application  of  powerful  restoratives,  Phil 
was  at  length  brought  round.  His  chilled  limbs  grew 
warm,  and  his  heart  began  to  beat  more  steadily  and 
strongly.  A  bed  was  brought  down  to  the  sitting- 
room,  and  he  was  placed  in  it. 

"  Where  am  I?"  he  asked  faintly,  when  he  opened 
his  eyes. 

"  You  are  with  friends,  my  boy.  Don't  ask  ques 
tions  now.  In  the  morning,  you  may  ask  as  many  as 
you  like." 

Phil  closed  his  eyes  languidly,  and  soon  fell  into  a 
sound  sleep  Nature  was  doing  her  work  well,  and 
rapidly. 


252  PHIL,    THE   FIDDLER,    OR, 

In  the  morning  Phil  woke  up  almost  wholly 
restored. 

As  he  opened  his  eyes,  they  met  the  kind  glances 
of  the  doctor  and  his  wife. 

"  How  do  you  feel  this  morning  ?  '*  asked  the 
doctor. 

"  I  feel  well,"  said  Phil,  looking  around  him 
with  curiosity. 

"Do  you  think  you  could  eat  some  breakfast?" 
asked  Dr.  Drayton,  with  a  smile. 

"  Yes,  sir,"  said  Phil. 

"  Then,  my  lad,  I  think  I  can  promise  you  some  ag 
soon  as  you  are  dressed.  But  I  see  from  your  looks 
you  want  to  know  where  you  are,  and  how  you  came 
here.  Don't  you  remember  the  snow-storm  yester 
day?" 

Phil  shuddered.     He  remembered  it  well. 

"  I  found  you  lying  by  the  side  of  the  road  about 
half-past  eight  in  the  evening.     I  suppose  you  don* 
remember  my  picking  you  up  ?  " 

"  No,  sir." 

"  You  were  insensible.     I  was  afraid  at  first  yor 


THE    YOUNG    STREET  MUSICIAN.  253 

were  frozen.  But  I  brought  you  home,  and,  thanks  to 
Providence,  you  are  all  right  again. 

"  Where  is  my  fiddle?  "  asked  Phil,  anxiously. 

u  It  is  safe.     There  it  is  on  the  piano." 

Phil  was  relieved  to  see  that  his  faithful  companion 
was  safe.  Pie  looked  upon  it  as  his  stock  in  trade, 
for  without  it  he  would  not  have  known  how  to  make 
his  livelihood. 

He  dressed  quickly,  and  was  soon  seated  at  the 
doctor's  well-spread  table.  He  soon  showed  that,  in 
spite  of  his  exposure  and  narrow  escape  from  death, 
he  had  a  hearty  appetite.  Mrs.  Drayton  saw  him  eat 
with  true  motherly  pleasure,  and  her  natural  love  of 
children  drew  her  towards  our  young  hero,  and  would 
have  done  so  even  had  he  been  less  attractive. 

"  Joseph,"  she  said,  addressing  her  husband,  "  I 
want  to  speak  to  you  a  moment." 

He  followed  her  out  of  the  room. 

"Well,  my  dear?"  he  said. 

u  I  want  to  ask  a  favor." 

"  It  is  granted  in  advance." 

"  Perhaps  you  will  not  say  so  when  you  know  what 
it  is." 


254 


PHIL,    TJIE   FIDDLE  It; 


"  I  can  guess  it.     You  want  to  keep  this  boy." 
"  Are  you  willing?" 

"  I  would  have  proposed  it,  if  you  had  not.  lie  is 
without  friends  and  poor.  We  have  enough  and  to 
spare.  We  will  adopt  him  in  place  of  our  lost 
Walter." 

"  Thank  you,  Joseph.  It  will  make  me  happy. 
Whatever  I  do  for  him,  I  will  do  as  for  my  lost 
darling." 

They  went  back  into  the  room.  They  found  Phil 
with  his  cap  on,  and  his  fiddle  under  his  arm. 

"Where  are  you  going,  Philip?"  asked  the  doc- 
tor. 

"I  am  going  into  the  street.  I  thank  you  for 
your  kindness." 

"  Would  you  not  rather  stay  with  us?" 
Phil  looked  up,  uncertain  of  his  meaning. 
"  We  had  a  boy  once,  but  he  is  dead.     Will  you 
stay  with  us,  and  be  our  boy  ?  " 

Phil  looked  in  the  kind  faces  of  the  doctor  and  his 
wife,  and  his  face  lighted  up  with  joy  at  the  unex 
pected  prospect  of  such  a  home,  with  people  who 
would  be  kind  to  him. 


THE    YOVNG   STREET  MUSICIAN.  255 

"  I  will  stay."  he  said.  "  You  are  _yery___kind__tp 
me." 

So  our  little  hero  had  drifted  into  a  snug  harbor. 
His  toils  and  privations  were  over.  And  for  the 
doctor  and  his  wife  it  was  a  glad  day  also.  On 
Christmas  day  four  }Tears  before  they  had  lost  a  child 
On  this  Christmas  God  had  sent  them  another  to  fill 
the  void  in  their  hearts. 


256  PHIL)  TUB  FIDDLER;  on* 


CHAPTER    XXVI. 

CONCLUSION. 

IT  was  a  strange  thing  for  the  homeless  fiddler  to 
find  himself  the  object  of  affectionate  care  and  solici 
tude,  —  to  feel  when  he  woke  up  in  the  morning  no 
anxiety  about  the  day's  success.  He  could  not  have 
found  a  better  home.  Naturally  attractive,  and  with 
out  serious  faults,  Phil  soon  won  his  way  to  the 
hearts  of  the  good  doctor,  and  his  wife^  The  house 
seemed  brighter  for  his  presence,  and  the  void  in  the 
heart  of  the  bereaved  mother  was  partially  filled. 
Her  lost  "Walter  would  have  been  of  the  same  age  as 
Phil,  had  he  lived.  For  his  sake  she  determined  to 
treat  the  boy,  who  seemed  cast  by  Providence  upon 
her  protection,  as  a  son. 

To  begin  with,  Phil  was  carried  to  the  village 
tailor,  where  an  ample  wardrobe  was  ordered  for  him. 
His  old  clothes  were  not  cast  aside,  but  kept  in  re 
membrance  of  his  appearance  at  the  time  he  came 


THE    YOUNG   STREET  MUSICIAN.  25? 

to  them.  It  wa*  a  novel  sensation  for  Phil,  when, 
in  his  new  suit,  TV  ith  a  satchel  of  books  in  his  hand, 
he  set  out  for  the  town  school.  It  is  needless  to  say 
that  his  education  was  very  defective,  but  he  was 
far  from  deficient  in  natural  ability,  and  the  prog 
ress  he  made  was  so  rapid,  that  in  a  year  he  was  on 
an  equal  footing  with  the  average  of  boys  at  his  age. 
He  was  able  at  that  time  to  speak  English  as  fluently 
as  his  companions,  and,  but  for  his  dark  eyes,  and 
clear  brown  complexion,  he  might  have  been  mistaken 
for  an  American  boy. 

His  popularitjr  with  his  school-fellows  was  instant 
and  decided.  His  good  Irnnor  and  lively  disposition 
might  readily  account  for  that,  even  if  his  position 
as  the  adopted  son  of  a  prominent  citizen  had  no 
effect.  But  it  was  understood  that  the  doctor,  who 
had  no  near  relatives,  intended  to  treat  Phil  in  all 
respects  as  a  son,  even  to  leaving  him  his  heir. 

I  may  be  asked  whether  the  padrone  gave  up  all 
efforts  to  recover  the  young  fiddler.  He  was  too  vin 
dictive  for  this.  Boys  had  run  away  from  him  be 
fore,  but  none  had  subjected  him  to  such  ignominious 
failure  in  the  effort  for  their  recovery.  It  would  have 


258  PHIL,  THE  FIDDLER;  OR, 

fared  ill  with  our  young  hero  if  he  had  fallen  again 
into  the  hands  of  his  unscrupulous  enemy.  But  the 
padrone  was  not  destined  to  recover  him.  Day  after 
day  Pietro  explored  the  neighboring  towns,  but  all 
to  no  purpose.  He  only  visited  the  principal  towns, 
while  Phil  was  in  a  small  town,  not  likely  to  attract 
the  attention  of  his  pursuers. 

A  week  after  his  signal  failure  in  Newark,  the 
padrone  inserted  an  advertisement  in  the  "  New  York 
Herald,"  offering  a  reward  of  twenty-five  dollars  for 
the  recovery  of  Phil.  But  our  young  hero  was  at 
that  time  wandering  about  the  country,  and  the  ad 
vertisement  did  not  fall  under  the  eye  of  those  with 
whom  he  came  in  contact.  At  length  the  padrone 
was  compelled  to  own  himself  baffled,  and  give  up 
the  search.  He  was  not  without  hopes,  however, 
that  some  time  Phil  would  turn  up.  He  did  hear  of 
him  again  through  Pietro,  but  not  in  a  way  to  bring 
him  any  nearer  his  recovery. 

This  is  the  way  it  happened  :  — 

One  Saturday  morning  in  March,  about  three 
months  after  Phil  had  found  a  home,  the  doctor  said 
to  him,  "  Phil,  I  am  going  to  New  York  this  morning 


THE    YOFNG   STREET  MUSICIAN.  259 

on  a  little  business ;  would  you  like  to  come  with 
me?" 

Phil's  eyes  brightened.  Though  he  was  happy  in 
his  village  home,  he  had  longed  at  times  to  find  him 
self  in  the  city  streets  with  which  his  old  vagabond 
life  had  rendered  him  so  familiar. 

"  I  should  like  it  very  much,"  he  answered  eagerly. 

"  Then  run  upstairs  and  get  ready.  I  shall  start  in 
fifteen  minutes." 

Phil  started,  and  then  turned  back. 

"  I  might  meet  Pictro,  or  the  padrone,"  he  said,  hes 
itating. 

"  No  matter  if  you  do.  I  shall  be  with  you.  If  they 
attempt  to  recover  you,  I  will  summon  the  police." 

The  doctor  spoke  so  confidently,  that  Phil  dismissed 
his  momentary  fear.  Two  hours  later  they  set  foot  in 
New  York. 

"  Now,  Phil,"  said  the  doctor,  "  my  business  will 
not  take  long.  After  that,  if  there  are  any  friends  you 
would  like  to  see,  I  will  go  with  you,  and  find  them." 

"  I  should  like  to  see  Paul  Hoffman,"  said  Phil.  "  I 
owe  him  two  dollars  and  a  half  for  the  fiddle." 


260  PHIL,    THE   FIDDLER  I    OR, 

"  He  shall  be  paid,"  said  the  doctor.  "  lie  shall 
lose  nothing  by  trusting  you." 

An  hour  afterwards,  while  walking  with  the  doctor 
in  a  side  street,  Phil's  attention  was  attracted  by  the 
notes  of  a  hand-organ.  Turning  in  the  direction  from 
which  it  came,  he  met  the  glance  of  his  old  enemy, 
Pietro. 

"It  is  Pietro,"  he  said  quickly,  touching  the  arm 
of  his  companion. 

Pietro  had  not  been  certain  till  then  that  it  was 
Phil.  It  looked  like  him,  to  be  sure,  but  his  new 
clothing  and  general  appearance  made  such  a  differ 
ence  between  him  and  the  Phil  of  former  days,  that 
he  would  have  supposed  it  only  an  accidental  resem 
blance.  But  Phil's  evident  recognition  of  him  con 
vinced  him  of  his  identity.  He  instantly  ceased  play 
ing,  and  with  eager  exultation  advanced  to  capture 
him.  Phil  would  have  been  alarmed,  but  for  his  con 
fidence  in  the  doctor's  protection. 

"I  have  got  you  at  last,  scelerato."  said  Pietro, 
roughly  grasping  Phil  by  the  shoulder. 

The  doctor  instantly  seized  him  by  the  collar,  and 
hurled  him  back. 


THE  'XOUNQ   STREET  MUSICIAN.  261 

"What  do  you  mean  by  assaulting  my  son?"  he 
demanded,  coolly. 

Pictro  was  rather  astonished  at  this  unexpected 
attack. 

"  He  is  m}*-  brother,"  he  said.  "  He  must  go  back 
with  me." 

"  He  is  not  your  brother.  If  you  touch  him  again, 
I  will  hand  you  to  the  police." 

"  He  ran  away  from  my  uncle,"  said  Pietro. 

"  Then  your  uncle  should  have  treated  him  better." 

"  He  stole  a  fiddle,"  persisted  Pietro,  doggedly. 

"  lie  had  paid  for  it  overjmd  over  againj"_said  the 
doctor.  "  Phil,  come  along.  We  have  no  further 
business  with  this  young  man." 

They  walked  on,  but  Pietro  followed  at  a  little 
distance.  Seeing  this,  Dr.  Dray  ton  turned  back. 

"Young  man,"  he  said,  "do  you  see  that  police 
man  across  the  street  ?  " 

"  Si,  signore,"  answered  Pietro. 

44  Then  I  advise  you  to  go  in  a  different  direction, 
or  I  shall  request  him  to  follow  you." 

Pietro's  sallow  face  was  pale  with  rage.  He  felt 
angry  enough  to  tear  Phil  to  pieces,  but  his  rage  waa 


2C2  p/7/i,  THE  FIDDLER;  OR, 

unavailing.  He  bad  a  wholesome  fear  of  the  police, 
and  the  doctor's  threat  was  effectual.  He  turned 
away,  though  with  reluctance,  and  Phil  breathed  more 
freely.  Pietro  communicated  his  information  to  the 
padrone,  and  the  latter,  finding  that  Phil  had  found  a 
powerful  protector,  saw  that  it  would  be  dangerous 
for  him  to  cary  the  matter  any  further,  and  sensibly 
resolved  to  give  up  the  chase. 

Of  the  padrone  I  have  only  further  to  say,  that 
some  months  later  he  got  into  trouble.  In  a  low  drink 
ing  saloon  an  altercation  arose  between  him  and  an 
other  ruffian  one  evening,  when  the  padrone,  in  his 
rage,  drew  a  knife,  and  stabbed  his  adversary.  He 
was  arrested,  and  is  now  serving  out  his  sentence  at 
Sing  Sing.  Pietro,  by  arrangement  with  him,  took 
his  place,  stipulating  to  pay  him  a  certain  annual  sum. 
But  he  has  taken  advantage  of  his  uncle's  incarcer 
ation  to  defraud  him,  and  after  the  first  payment 
neglected  to  make  any  returns.  It  may  readily  be 
imagined  that  this  embitters  the  padrone's  imprison 
ment.  Knowing  what  I  do  of  his  fierce  temper,  I 
should  not  be  surprised  to  hear  of  a  murderous 
encounter  between  him  and  his  nephew  after  his 


TITE    YOUNG   STREET  MUSICIAN.  263 

release  from  imprisonment,  unless,  as  is  probable, 
just  before  the  release,  Pietro  should  flee  the  country 
with  the  ill-gotten  gains  he  may  have  acquired  during 
his  term  of  office.  Meanwhile  the  boys  are  treated  with 
scarcely  less  rigor  by  him  than  by  his  uncle,  and  toil 
early  and  late,  suffering  hardship  and  privations,  that 
Pietro  may  grow  rich. 

Paul  Hoffman  had  often  thought  of  Phil,  and 
how  he  had  fared.  He  was  indeed  surprised  and 
pleased  when  the  young  fiddler  walked  up  and  called 
him  by  name. 

"  Phil,"  he  exclaimed,  grasping  his  hand  heartily, 
"  I  am  very  glad  to  see  you.  Have  you  made  a 
fortune?" 

"  He  has  found  a  father,"  said  Dr.  Drayton,  speak 
ing  for  Phil,  "  who  wants  to  express  his  gratitude  to 
you  for  your  past  kindness  to  his  son." 

"  It  was  nothing,"  said  Paul,  modestly. 

"  It  was  a  great  deal  to  Phil,  for,  except  youi 
family,  he  had  no  friends." 

To  this  Paul  made  a  suitable  reply,  and  gave  Phu 
and  his  new  father  an  earnest  invitation  to  dine  with 
them.  This  the  doctor  declined,  but  agreed  to  call 


264  P/7/Z,   THE  FIDDLER;  ox, 

at  the  rooms  of  Mrs.  Hoffman,  if  Paul  would  agree 
to  come  and  pass  the  next  Sunday  with  Phil  as  his 
visitor.  Paul  accepted  the  invitation  with  pleasure, 
and  it  is  needless  to  say  that  he  received  a  hearty 
welcome,  and  agreed  in. the  approaching  summer  to 
make  another  visit. 

And  now  we  bid  farewell  to  Phil,  the  young  street 
musician.  If  his  life  henceforth  shall  be  less  crowded 
with  adventure,  and  so  less  interesting,  it  is  because 
he  has  been  fortunate  in  securing  a  good  home.  Some 
years  hence  the  doctor  promises  to  give  himself  a  va 
cation,  and  take  Phil  with  him  to  Europe,  where  he 
will  seek  out  his  Italian  home,  and  the  mother  with 
whom  he  has  already  opened  communication  by  letter. 
So  we  leave  Phil  in  good  hands,  and  with  the  prospect 
of  a  prosperous  career.  But  there  are  hundreds  of 
young  street  musicians  who  have  not  met  with  his  good 
fortune,  but  are  compelled,  by  hard  necessity,  lo  sub 
mit  to  the  same  privations  and  hardships  from  which 
he  is  happily  relieved.  May  a  brighter  day  dawn  for 
them  also ! 


I  hope  my  readers  feel  an  interest  in  Paul  Hoffman, 
the  young  street  merchant,  who  proved  so  efficient  a 


THE    YOUNG   STREET  MUSICIAN".  265 

friend  to  our  young  hero.  His  earlier  adventures  are 
chronicl-ed  in  "  Paul,  the  Peddler."  His  later  history 
will  be  chronicled  in  the  next  volume  of  this  series, 
which  will  be  entitled 

SLOW  AND  SURE  ; 

OR, 
FROM  THE  SIDEWALK  TO  THE  SHOP. 


THE 

FAMOUS 

CASTLEMON 

BOOKS. 

BY 

HARRY 
CASTLEMON. 


Specimen  Cover  of  the  Gunboat 
Series. 

No  author  of  the  present  day  has  become  a  greater  favorite  wirhboys  than 
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finished  'he  fascinated  reader,  like  Oliver  Twist,  asks  "  lor  more." 

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Castlemon.  3  vols.,  I2mo.  Fully  illustrated.  Cloth, 
extra,  printed  in  colors.  In  box $3  75 

Joe  Wayring  at  Home;  cr,  Story  of  a  Fly  Rod    .       i  25 

Snagged  and  Sunk  ;  or,  The  Adventures  of  a  Can 
vas  L,auoe I  25 

Steel  Horse ;  or,  The  Rambles  of  a  Eicycle  ....       i  25 

WAR  SERIES.  By  Harry  Castlemon.  4  vols., 
I2mo.  Fully  illustrated.  Cloth,  extra,  printed  in 
colors.  In  box 5  OO 

True  to  his  Colors i  25 

Rodney,  the  Partisan i  25 

Marcy,  the  Blockade  Runner i  25 

Marcy,  the  Refugee i  25 

OUR  FELLOWS;  or,  Skirmishes  with  the  Swamp 
Dragoons.  By  Harry  Castlemon.  i6mo.  Fully  illus 
trated.  Cloth,  extra i  25 


ALGER'S 

RENOWNED 

BOOKS. 

BY 

HORATIO 
ALGER,  JR. 


Specimen  Cover  r,f  the  Ragged 
Dick  Series. 

Horatio  Alger,  Jr.,  hns  attained  distinction  as  one  o*  the  most  popular 
writers  of  hooks  for  boys,  and  the  following  list  compri  cs  a]l  of  his  best 
books. 

$**  Any  volume  sold  separately. 


RAGGED  DICK  SERIES.  Ity  Horatio  Alger, 
Jr.  6  vols.,  I2mo.  Fully  illustrated.  Cloth,  extra, 
printed  in  colors.  In  box 

Ragged  Dick  ;  or,  Street  Life  in  New  York    .... 

Fame  and  Fortune ;  or,  The  Progress  of  Richard 
Hunter , 

Mark,  the  Match  Boy  ;  or,  Richard  Hunter's  Ward 

Rough  and  Ready ;  or,  Life  among  the  New  York 
Newsboys 

Ben,  the  Luggage  Boy  ;  or,  Among  the  "Wharves    . 

Rufus  and  Rose ;  or,  the  Fortunes  of  Rough  and 
Ready 

TATTERED  TOM  SERIES.  (FIRST  SERIES.) 
By  Horatio  Alger,  Jr.  4  vols,  I2mo.  Fully  illus 
trated.  Cloth,  extra,  printed  in  colors.  In  box  .  .  . 

(4) 


$7  50 
i  25 

i  25 
1  25 

i  25 
i  25 

i  25 
5  oo 


HENRY    T.    COATKS    &    CO.'S    POPULAR    JUVENILES.  5 

Tattered  Tom  ;  or,  The  Story  of  a  Street  Arab      .    .  I  25 

Paul,  the  Peddler;  or,  The  Adventures  of  a  Young 

Street  Merchant <    .  1   25 

Phil,  the  Fiddler;  or,  The  Younj  Street  Musician    .  I  25 

Slow  arid  Sure ;  or,  From  the  Sidewalk  to  the  Shop  I  25 

TATTERED  TOM  SERIES.  (SECOND  SERIES.) 
4  vols.,  I2mo.  Fully  illustrated.  Cloth,  extra,  printed 

in  colors.     In  box $5  °° 

Jalius;  or  the  Street  Boy  Out  West I  25 

The  Young  Outlaw;  cr,  /.drift  in  the  World  ...  I  25 

Sam's  Chance  and  How  He  Improved  it  ...  i  25 

The  Telegraph  Boy. -.       .   .  i  25 

LUCK  AND  PLUCK  SERIES.  (FmsT  SERIES.) 
By  Horatio  Algcr,  Jr.  4  vols.,  I2mo.  1  ully  illus 
trated.  Cloth,  extra,  printed  in  colors.  In  box  ...  $5  oo 

Luck  and  Pluck  ;  cr  John  Oakley's  Inheritance    .    .  I  25 

Sink  01  Swim  ;  or,  Harry  Raymond's  Resolve   ...  I  25 

Strong  and  Steady  ;  or,  Paddle  Your  Own  Canoe  .  i  25 

Strive   and    Succeed;    or,  The  Frogre  s  of  Walter 

Conrad 12$ 

LUCK  AND  PLUCK  SERIES.  (SECOND 
SERIES.)  By  Horatio  Alger,  Jr.  3  vols,  I2mo. 
Fully  illustrated.  Cloth,  extra,  printed  in  colors.  In 

box $5  oo 

Try  and  Trust ;  or,  1  he  Story  of  a  Bound  Boy  ...  i  25 

Bound  to  Rise  ;  or  Harry  Walton's  Motto I  25 

Risen  from  the  Ranks;  or,  Harry  Walton's  Success  i  25 

Herbert  Carter's  Legacy  ;  or,  The  Inventor's  Son  .  i  25 

CAMPAIGN  SERIES.  By  Horatio  Alger,  Jr.  3 
vols.,  I2mo.  Fully  illustrated.  Cloth,  extra,  printed 

in  colors.     In  box $3  75 

Prank's  Campaign  ;  or,  The  Farm  and  the  Camp    .  i  25 

Paul  Prescott's  Charge i  25 

Charlie  Codman's  Cruise I  ^e 


6  HENRY    T.    COATES    &    CO.'S    POPULAR    JUVENILES. 

BRAVE  AND  BOLD  SERIES.  By  Horatio 
Alger,  Jr.  4  vols.,  121110.  Ful  y  illustrated.  Cloth, 
extra,  printed  in  colors.  In  box $5  oc 

Brave  and  Bold ;  or,  The  Story  of  a  Factory  Boy  .  .  i  25 
Jack's  Ward ;  or,  The  Boy  Guardian i  25 

Shifting  for  Himself;  or,  Gilbert  Greyson's  For 
tunes i  25 

Wait  and  Hope  ;  or,  Ben  Bradford's  Motto    ....       i   25 

PACIFIC  SERIES  By  Horatio  Alger,  Jr.  4 
vols.  I2mo.  Fully  illustrated.  Cloth,  extra,  printed 
in  colors.  In  box  .  .  , $5  oo 

The    Young   Adventurer;  or,   Tom's  Trip  Across 

the  Plai;  s I   25 

The  Young  Miner;  or,  Tom  Nelson  in  California  .  i  25 
The  Young  Explorer  ;  or,  Among  the  Sierras  .  .  i  25 

Ben's  Nugget ;  or,  A  Boy's  Search  fcr  Fortune.     A 

Story  of  the  Pacific  Coast I   25 

ATLANTIC  SERIES.  By  Horatio  Alger,  Jr.  4 
vols  ,  I2mo.  Fully  illustrated.  Cloth,  extra,  printed 
in  colors.  In  box $5  oo 

The    Young    Circus   Rider;   or,   The   Mystery  of 

Robert  Rudd I   25 

Do  and  Dare;  or,  A  Brave  Boy's  Fight  for  Fortune  .  I  25 
Hector's  Inheritance  ;  or,  Boys  cf  Smith  Institute  .  i  25 
Helping  Himself ;  or,  Grant  Thornton's  Ambition  .  i  25 

"WAY  TO  SUCCESS  SERIES.  By  Horatio 
Alger,  |r  4  vols.,  I2mo.  Fully  illustrated.  Cloth, 
extra,  printed  in  colors.  In  box $5  oo 

Bob  Burton i  25 

The  Store  Boy i  25 

Luke  Walton i  25 

Struggling  Upward I  25 


NEW  BOOK  BY  ALGER. 

DIGGING   FOR  GOLD.      By  Horatio  Alger,  Jr. 

Illustrated  1 2mo.     Clcth,  Hack,  red  and  gold      ...       I  25 


m 


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